
1 



Class _SRjiJ±. 
Rnnic a r 



CopghtN?. 



K^% 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSnV 



ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH 



BALLADS 



EBITED BY 

FRANCIS JAMES CHILD 



EIGHT VOLUMES IN FOUR 
VOL. IV. 




BOSTON 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLLN AND COMPANY 

(LCi uiueisiiie Press. GaiubitDge 






Copyright, 1858, 

bt little, brown & CO. 

Copyright. 1886, 
Bi FRANCIS JAMES CHILD. 

AU rights reserved. 



CONTENTS OF VOLUME lY. 

COMPRISING VOLS. VII. AND VIII. 



VOL. VII. 

BOOK Vn. (Continued.) 

Page 

t a. The Battle of Otterbourne [Percy] 3 

4 b. The Battle of Otterbourne [Scott] 19 

5 a. The Hunting of the Cheviot 25 

5 b. Chevy-Chace 43 

6. Sir Andrew Barton 55 

7. Flodden Field 71 

8 a. Queen Jeanie 74 

8 b. The Death of Queen Jane 77 

9. The ]\Iurder of the King of Scots 78 

10. The Rising in the North 82 

11. Northumberland betrayed by Douglas 92 

12. King of Scots and Andrew Browne 108 

13. Mary Arabree 108 

14. Brave Lord Willoughbey 114 

15 a. The Bonny Earl of Murray [Ramsay] 119 

15 b. The Bonnie Earl of I\Iurray [Finlay] 121 

16. The Winning of Cales 123 

17. Sir .John Suckling's Campaign 128 

18. The Battle of Philiphaugh 131 

19. The Gallant Grahams. 137 

20. The Battle of Loudon HiU 144 

21. The Battle of Both well Bridge 148 

22. The Battle of Killiecrankie 152 

23. The Battb of Sherifl-Muir 156 

24. Lord Derwentwater 164 

25. The Battl3 of Tranent-Muir, or of Preston -Pans. . 167 



iv CONTENTS. 

Page 
APPENDIX. 

The Battle of Otterburn 177 

The Battle of Harlaw 180 

King Henrie the Fifth's Conquest 190 

Jane Shore 194 

Sir Andrew Barton 201 

The Battle of Corichie 210 

The Battle of Babmnes (or Glenlivet) 214 

Bonny John Seton 230 

The Haws of Cromdale 234 

The Battle of Alford 238 

The Battle of Pentland Hills 240 

The Eeading Skirmish 243 

Undaunted Londonderry 247 

Proelium Gillicrankianum 251 

The Bo>Tie Water 253 

The Woman Warrior 257 

The Battle of Sheriff-I\Iuu: 260 

Up and war them a', Willie 264 

The Jlarquis of Huntley's Retreat 267 

Johnie Cope 274 

King Leu- and his three Daughters 276 

Fair Rosamond 283 

Queen Eleanor's Fall 292 

The Duchess of Suffolk's Calamity 299 

The Life and Death of Thomas Stukely 806 

Lord Delaware 314 

The Battle of Harlaw (Traditional version) 317 



VOL. VIII. 

BOOK VIII. 



1 King John and the Abbot of Canterbury 3 

2. Captain Wedderburn's Courtship H 



CONTENTS. V 

Page 

3. Lfiy the Bent to the Bonny Broom 18 

4. King Eli ward Fourth and the Tanner of Tani worth 21 
B. The King and the Miller of Mansfield 32 

6. Gemutn?, the Jew of Venice 45 

7. The Frolicksorae Duke, or, The Tinker's Good 

Fortune 54 

8 a. The Heir of Linne. [Percy.] 60 

8 b. The Heir of Linne. [Traditional version] TO 

9. The Wandering Jew 76 

10. Troud Lady Margaret 83 

11. Eeedisdale and Wise William 87 

12 a. Geordie. [Musical Museum.] 92 

12 b. Geordie. [Kinloch.] 96 

13. The Gaberlunzie Man 98 

14. The Turnaraent of Totenham 101 

15. The Wyf of Auchtirmuchty 116 

16. The Friar in the Well 122 

17. Get up and bar the Door 125 

18. The Dragon of Wantley 128 

APPENDIX 

Kempy Kaye. f Sharpe. 1 139 

Kerapy Kaye. [Kinloch.) 141 

The Jovial Hunter of Broms^ove 144 

The Bludy Serk 147 

The Wanton Wife of Bath....'. 152 

The Gentleman in Thracia 158 

Sir Richard Whittliigton's Advancement 165 

Catskin's Garland, or. The Wandering young Gentle- 
man 172 

The Taming of a Shrew 182 

Titus Andronicus's Complaint 188 

John Dory 194 

Sir Eglamore 196 

Jephthah, Judge of Israel 198 

Samson 20i 

Queen Dido, or, The Wandering Prince of Troy 207 

George Barnwell 213 



vi CONTEXTS. 

Pag? 

The Duke of AtlioPs Nurse. [Buchan.] 228 

The Duke of Athol's Nourice. [Kinloch.] 231 

The Hireman Chiel 233 

Armstrong and Musgrave 243 

Fair Margaret of Craignargat 248 

Richie Storie 25a 

The Farmer's Old Wife 25V 

The Duel of Wharton and Stuart 259 

Saddle to Rags 265 

The Fause Knight upon the Road 269 

Gifts from over Sea 271 

The Courteous Knight 272 

The Northern Lord and Cruel Jew 277 

Gight's Lady 285 

Glossary 293 

Index 337 



BOOK YII. 

CONTINUED. 



VOL. vn. 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 

In the twelfth year of Richard II. (1388,) the Scots 
assembled an extensive army, with the intention of 
invading England on a grand scale, in revenge for a 
previous incursion made by that sovereign. But in- 
formation having been received that the Northum- 
brians were gathering in considerable force for a 
counter-invasion, it was thought prudent not to at- 
tempt to carry out the original enterprise. While, 
therefore, the main body of the army, commanded by 
the Earl of Fife, the Scottish king's second son, ravaged 
the western borders of England, a detachment of three 
or four thousand chosen men, under the Earl of 
Douglas, penetrated by a swift march into the Bishop- 
ric of Durham, and laid waste the country with fire 
and sword. Returning in triumph from this inroad, 
Douglas passed insultingly before the gates of New- 
castle, where Sir Harry Percy lay in garrison. This 
fiery wan-ior, though he could not venture to cope with 
forces far superior to his own, sallied out to break a 
lance with his hereditary foe. In a skirmish before 
the town he lost his spear and pennon, which Douglas 
Bwore he would plant as a trophy on the highest tower 
of his castle, unless it should be that very night re- 
taken by the owner. Hotspur was deterred from 



4 THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 

accepting this challenge immediately, by the appre- 
hension that Douglas would be able to effect a union 
with the main body of the Scottish army before he 
could be overtaken, but when he learned, the second 
day, that the Earl was retreating with ostentatious 
elowness, he hastily got together -a company of eight 
or ten thousand men, and set forth in pursuit. 

The English forces, under the command of Hot- 
spur and his brother, Sir Ralph Percy, came up with 
the Scots at Otterbourne, a small village about thirty 
miles from Newcastle, on the evening of the 15th of 
August. Their numbers were more than double the 
Scots, but they were fatigued with a long march. 
Percy fell at once on "the camp of Douglas, and a des- 
perate action ensued. The victory seemed to be in- 
clining to the English, when the Scottish leader, as the 
last means of reanimating his followers, rushed on the 
advancing enemy with heroic daring, and cleared a 
way with his battle-axe into the middle of their ranks. 
All but alone and unsupported, Douglas was over- 
powered by numbers, and sunk beneath three mortal 
wounds. The Scots, encouraged by the furious charge 
of their chieftain, and ignorant of his fate, renewed the 
struggle with vigor. Ralph Percy was made prisoner 
by the Earl Mareschal, and soon after Hotspur him- 
self by Lord Montgomery. Many other Englishmen 
of rank had the same fate. After a long fight, mam- 
tained with extraordinary bravery on both sides, the 
English retiri^d and left the Scots masters of the field. 
(See Sir W. Scott's History of Scotland^ i. 225.) 

The ballad whicjbi follows, printed from the fourth 
or revised edition of Percy's Reliques (vol. i. p. 21), 
w^as derived from a manuscript in the Cotton library 



THE BATTLE OF OTTEKBOURNE. 6 

(Cleopatra, c. iv. fol. 64), thought to be written about 
the middle of the sixteenth century. In the earlier 
editions, a less perfect copy, from the Harleian col- 
lection, had been used. Hume of Godscroft, speaking 
of the songs made on the battle of Otterbourne, says, 
" the Scots song made of Otterbourne telleth the 
time — about Lammas ; and also the occasion — to take 
preys out of England ; also the dividing armies be- 
twixt the Earls of Fife and Douglas, and their several 
Journeys, almost as in the authentic history," and pro- 
ceeds to quote the first stanza of the present ballad. 
Again, it is said that at Lammas, when the Scotch 
husbandmen are busy at getting in their bay, the 
season has been over for a month in most parts of 
England. From these circumstances, and the occur- 
rence of certain Scottish words, the first part of The 
Battle of Otterbourne has been regarded as a Scottish 
composition, retouched by an English hand. 

A somewhat mutilated version of this ballad was 
published in Herd's Scottish Songs. This, though de- 
fective, well deserves a place in our Appendix. Sir 
Walter Scott inserted in the Minstrelsy another edi- 
tion made up by him from two copies obtained from 
the recitation of old persons residing in Ettrick Forest, 
and it is here subjoined to Percy's version. 

Genealogical notices of the personages mentioned 
in this and the following ballad will be found in 
Percy's Reliques and in Scott's Minstrelsy. 

Yt felle abowght the Lamasse tyde, 

Whan husbonds wynn ther haye, 
The dowghtye Dowglasse bowynd hym to rjde, 

In Ynglond to take a praye. 



6 THE EA.TTLE OF OTTEIIBOURNE. 

Tht yerlle of FyfFe, withowghten stryffe, 
He bowynd hym over Sulway^: 

The grete wolde ever together ryde ; 
That race they may rue for aye. 

Over Ottercap hylP they came in, 
And so dowyn by RodelyfFe cragge, 

Upon Grene Leyton they lyghted dowyn, 
Styrande many a stagge^; 

And boldely brent Northomberlonde, 

And haryed many a tovvyn ; 
They dyd owr Ynglyssh men grete wrange, 

To battell that were not bowyn. 



^ i. e. over Solway frith. This evidently refers to the 
other division of the Scottish army, which came in by way 
of Carlisle. — Percy. 

2 sc. the Earl of Douglas and his party. — The several 
stations here mentioned are well-known places in Northum- 
berland. Ottercap-hill is in the parish of Kirk-Whelpington, 
in Tynedale-ward. Rodeliffe- (or, as it is more usually pro- 
nounced, Rodeley-) Cragge is a noted cliff near Rodeley, a 
small village in the parish of Hartburn, in Morpeth-ward. 
Green Leyton is another small village in the same parish of 
Hartburn, and is southeast of Rodeley. Both the original 
^:|SS. read here, corruptly, Hoppertop and Lynton. — P. 

3 Many a styrande stage, in both AISS. Motherwell 
would retain this reading, because stagge signifies in Scot- 
land a young stallion, and by supplying " off" the line would 
make sense. Tt was one of the Border laws, he remarks, 
tliat the Scottish array of battle should be on foot (see v. 15 
of the Second Part). Horses were used but for a retreat or 
pursuit. 



THE BITTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 

riian spake a berne upon the bent, 

Of comforte that was not colde, 
And sayd, " We have brent Northomberlond, 

We have all welth in holde. 

^ Now we have haryed all Bamboroweshyre, 
All the welth in the worlde have wee ; 

I rede we ryde to Newe Castell, 
So sty 11 and stalwurthlye." 

Uppon the morowe, when it was daye, 
The standards schone fuUe bryght ; 

To the Newe Castelle the toke the waye, 
And thether they cam fulle ryght. 

Sir Henry Percy laye at the Newe Castelle, 

I telle yow withowtten drede ; 
lie had byn a march-man all hys dayes, 

And kepte Barwyke upon Twede. 

To the Newe Castell when they cam, 
The Skottes they cryde on hyght, 

" Syr Harye Percy, and thow byste within, 
Com to the fylde, and fyght : 

" For we have brente Northomberlonde, 

Thy eritage good and ryght ; 
And syne my logeyng I have take, 

With my brande dubbyd many a knyght*'' 



8 THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. , 

Sir Harry Percy cam to the walles, 

The Skottyssh oste for to se ; 
*'And thow hast brente Northomberlond, 

Full sore it rewyth me. 

" yf thou hast haryed all Bambarowe shyre, 

Thow hast done me grete envye ; 
For the trespasse thow hast me done, 

The tone of us schall dye." 

*' Where schall I byde the ? " sayd the Dowglas, 
" Or where wylte thow come to me ? '* 

" At Otterborne in the hygh way, 
Ther maist thow well logeed be. 

" The roo full rekeles ther sche rinnes, 

To make the ^ame and dee ; 
The fawkon and the fesaunt both, 

Amonge the holtes on hye. 

" Ther maist thow have thy welth at wyll, 

Well looged ther maist be ; 
Yt scliall not be long or I com the tyll," 

Sayd Syr Harry Percye. 

" Ther schall I byde the," sayd the Dowglas, 

" By the fayth of my bodye : " 
'* Thether schall I com," sayd Syr Harry Percy 

" My trowth I plyght to the." 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 

A pype of wyne he gave them over the walles, 

For soth, as I yow saye ; 
Ther he mayd the Douglas drynke, 

And all hys oste that daye. 

The Dowglas turnyd hym homewarde agayne, 

For soth withowghten naye ; 
He tooke his logeyng at Oterborne 

Uppon a "Wedynsday. 

And there he pyght hys standerd dowyn, 

Hys gettyng more and lesse, 
And syne he warned hys men to goo 

To chose ther geldyngs gresse. 

A Skottysshe knyght hoved upon the bent, ^ 
• A wache I dare well saye ; 
So was he ware on the noble Percy 
In the dawnynge of the daye. 

He prycked to his pavyleon dore, 

As faste as he myght ronne ; 
" Awaken, Dowglas," cryed the knyght, 

" For hys love, that syttes yn trone. 

" Awaken, Dowglas," cryed the knyght, 
" For thow maiste waken wyth wynne ; 

Tender have I spyed the prowde Percy, 
And seven standardes wyth hym." 

1 the best bent, MS. 



10 THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE, 

" Nay bj my trowth," the Douglas sayed, 

" It ys but a fayiied taylle ; 
He durste not loke on my bred banner, 

For all Ynglonde so haylle. 

" Was I not yesterdaye at the Newe Castcll, 

That stonds so fayre on Tyne ? 
For all the men the Percy hade, 

He cowde not garre me ones to dyne." 

He stepped owt at hys pavelyon dore, 

To loke and it were lesse ; 
" Araye yow, lordyngs, one and all, 

For here bygynnes no peysse. 

" The yerle of Mentayne,^ thow art my eme, 

The forwarde I gyve to the : 
The yerlle of Huntlay^ cawte and kene. 

He schall wyth the be. 

"The lorde of Bowghan,^marmure bryght, 
On the other hand he schall be ; 

1 The Earl of Menteith. At the time of tlie battle the 
earldom of Menteith was possessed by Robert Earl of Fife, 
who was ill command of the main body of the army, and 
consequently not with Douglas. 

2 The reference is to Sir John Gordon. The use of this 
designation shows, says Percy, that the ballad was not com- 
posed before 1449. In that year the title of Earl of Huntly 
was first conferred on Alexander Seaton, who married the 
grand-daughter of the Gordon of Otterbourne. 

3 The Earl of Buchan fourth son of King Kobert TL 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE 11 

Lord Jhonstoue and Lorde Maxwell, 
They to schall be wyth me. 

" Swynton, fayre t'ylde upon your pryde ! 

To batell make yow bowen, 
Syr Davy Scotte, Syr Walter Stewarde, 

Syr Jhon of Agurstone ! " 



A FYTTE. 



[the second part.] 

The Perssy came byfore hys oste, 
Wych was ever a gentyll knyght ; 

Upon the Dowglas lowde can he crye, 
" I wyll holde that I have hyght. 

" For thow haste brente Northumberlonde, 

And done me grete envye ; 
For thys trespasse thou hast me done, 

The tone of us schall dye." 

The Dowglas answerde hym agayne 

With grete wurds up on hye,. 
And sayd, " I have twenty agaynst the one, 

Byholde, and thow maiste see." 

Wyth that the Percye was grevyd sore, 
For sothe as I yow saye ; 



12 THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURXB. 

He lyghted dowyn upon his fote, 
And schoote his horsse clene away. 

Every man sawe that he dyd soo, 

That ryall was ever in rowght ; 
Every man schoote hys horsse him froo, 

And lyght hym rowynde abowght. 

Thus Syr Hary Percye toke the fy Ide, 

For soth, as I yow saye ; 
Jesu Cryste in hevyn on hyght 

Dyd helpe hym well that daye. 

But nyne thowzand, ther was no moo, 

The cronykle wyll not layne ; 
Forty thowsande Skottes and fowre 

That day fowght them agayne. 

But when the batell byganne to joyne, 

In hast ther came a knyght; 
* Then ' letters fayre furth hath he tayne, 

And thus he sayd full ryght: 

" My lorde, your father he gretes yow well, 

Wyth many a noble knyght ; 
He desyres yow to byde 

That he may see thys fyght. 

' The Baron of Grastoke ys com owt of the west 
With hinr a noble companye ; 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 13 

AH they loge at your fathers thys nyght, 
And the battell fayne wold they see. 

" For Jesus love," sayd Syr Harye Percy, 

" That dyed for yow and me, 
Wende to my lorde my father agayne. 

And saye thou saw me not with yee. 

^ My trowth ys plyght to yonne Skottysh knyght, 

It nedes me not to layne. 
That I schulde byde hym upon thys bent, 

And I have hys trowth agayne. 

'' And if that I wende off thys grownde, 

For soth, unfoughten awaye, 
He wolde me call but a kowarde knyght 

In hys londe another daye. \ 

" Yet had I lever to be rynde and rente, 

By Mary, that mykel maye, 
Then ever my manhod schulde be reprovyd 

Wyth a Skotte another daye. 

" Wherefore schote, archars, for my sake, 

And let scharpe arowes flee ; 
Mynstrells, play up for your waryson. 

And well quyt it schall be. 

" Every man thynke on hys trewe love, 
And marke hym to the Trenite ; 



14 THE UATTLE OF OTTEilBOURN E. 

For to God I make myne avowe 
Thys day wyll I not fle." 

The blodye harte in tlie Dowglas armes, 

Hys standerde stode on bye ; 
That every man myght full well knowe ; 

By syde stode starres thre. 

The whyte lyon on the Ynglysh parte, 

Forsoth, as I yow sayne, 
The lucetts and the cressawnts both ; 

The Skotts faught them agayne. 

Uppon Sent Andre we lowde cane they crye, 
And thrysse they schowte on hyght, 

And syne marked them one owr Ynglysshe men, 
As I have tolde yow ryght. 

Sent George the bryght, owr ladyes knyght, 

To name they were full fayne ; 
Owr Ynglysshe men they cryde on hyght, 

And thrysse the schowtte agayne. 

"Wyth that, scharpe arowes bygan to flee, 

I tell yow in sertayne ; 
Men of armes byganne to joyne. 

Many a dowghty man was ther slayne. 

The Percy and the Dowglas mette, 
That ether of other was fayne ; 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 15 

They schapped together, whyll that the swette, 
With swords of fyne collayne ; 

Tyll the bloode from ther bassonnetts ranne. 

As the roke doth in the rayne ; 
" Yelde the to me," sayd the Dowglas, 

" Or ells thow schalt be slayne. 

" For I see by thy bryght bassonet, 

Thow art sum man of myght ; 
And so I do by thy burnysshed brande ; 

Thow art an yerle, or ells a knyght."^ 

" By my good faythe," sayd the noble Percy, 

" Now haste thou rede full ryght ; 
Yet wyll I never yelde me to the, 

Whyll I may stonde and fyght." 

They swapped together, whyll that they swette, 

Wyth swordes scharpe and long ; 
Ych on other so faste they beette, 

Tyll ther helmes cam in peyses dowyn. 

The Percy was a man of strenghth, 

I tell yow in thys stounde ; 
He smote the Dowglas at the swordes length, 

That he felle t^ the growynde. 

1 Being all in armour he could not know him. — P. 



16 THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 

The sworde was scharpe, and sore can byte, 

I tell yow in sertayne ; 
To the harte he cowde hym smyte, 

Thus was the Dowglas slayne. 

Tlie stonderds stode styll on eke syde, 

With many a grevous grone ; 
Ther the fowght the day, and all the nyght, 

And many a dowghty man was slayne. 

Ther was no freke that ther wolde flye, 

But st} ffly in stowre can stond, 
Ychone hewyng on other whyll they myght dryt 

Wyth many a bayllefull bronde. 

Ther was slayne upon the Skottes syde, 

For soth and sertenly, 
Syr James a Dowglas ther was slayne, 

That daye that he cowde dye. 

The yerle of Mentaye he was slayne, 
Grysely groned uppon the growynd ; 

Syr Davy Scotte, Syr AYalter Steward, 
Syr John of Agurstonne.^ 

Syr Charlies Morrey in that place, 
That never a fote wold llye ; 

1 Both the MSS. read here Sir James, but see above 
Pt. 1. p. 11.— P. 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 17 

Sir Hughe Maxwelle, a lorde he was, 
Witli the Dowglas dyd he dye. 

Ther was slayne upon the Skottes syde, 

For soth as I yow saye, 
Of fowre and forty thowsande Scotts 

Went but eyghtene awaye. 

Ther was slayne upon the Ynglysshe syde-, 

For soth and sertenlye, 
A gentell Ivnygkt, Sir John Fitz-hughe, 

Yt was the more petye. 

Syr James Harebotell ther was slayne, 

For hym ther hartes were sore ; 
The gentyll Lovelle^ ther was slayne, 

That the Percyes standerd bore. 

Ther was slayne uppon the Ynglyssh perte, 

For soth as I yow saye, 
Of nyne thowsand Yngly^-.sh men 

Fyve hondert cam awaye. 

The other were slayne in the fylde ; 

Cryste kepe their sowles from wo I 
Seying ther was so few fryndes 

Agaynst so many a foo. 

1 Covelle, MS. 
VOL. VIL 2 



18 THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 

Then one the morne they mayd them beeres 

Of byrch, and haysell graye ; 
Many a wydowe with wepyng teyres 

Ther makes they fette awaye. 

Thys fraye bygan at Otterborne, 
Bytwene the nyghte and the day : 

Ther the Dowglas lost hys lyfe, 
And the Percy was lede awaye. 

Then was ther a Scottyshe prisoner tayne, 
Syr Hughe Mongomery^ was hys name; 

For soth as I yow saye, 

He borowed the Percy home agayne. 

Now let us all for the Percy praye 

To Jesu most of myght, 
To bryng hys sowle to the blysse of heven. 

For he was a gentyll knyglit. 



1 Supposed to be son of Lord John Montgomery, whc 
took Hotspur prisoner. In Tlie Hunting of the Cheviot tbif 
Sir Hugh is said to have been sh\in with an arrow. 



THE BA.TTLE OF OTTEllBOUKNE. 19 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 

From Minstrelsy of iJie Scottish Border, i. 354, 
In the Complaint of Scotland (1548), " The Persee 
and the Moiiijumrye met," (v. 117 of this piece,) 
occurs as the title, or rather the catchword, of one of 
the popular songs of the time. 

It fell about the Lammas tide, 

When the muir-men win their hay, 

The doughty Douglas bound him to ride 
Into England, to drive a prey. 

He chose the Gordons and the Grcemes, 
With them the Lindesays, light and gayi ; 

But the Jardines" wald not with him ride, 
And they rue it to this day. 

And he has burn'd the dales of Tyne, 
And part of Bambroughshire ; 



1 " Light " is the appropriated designation of the Lind- 
says, as " gay " is that of the Gordons. 

2 The Jardines were a clan of hardy West-Border roeii. 
Their chief was Jardine of Applegirth. Their refusal to 
ride with Douglas was, probably, the result of one of those 
perpetual feuds, which usually rent to pieces a Scottish 
ftrmy. — S. 



20 THE liATTLE OF OTTEB. OURNE. 

And three good towers on Reidswire fella. 
He left them all on fire. 

And he march'd up to Newcastle, 

And rode it round about ; 
" wha's the lord of this castle, 

Orwha's thelady o't?" 

But up spake proud Lord Percy then, 

And but he spake hie ! 
« I am the lord of this castle, 

My wife's the lady gay." 

" If thou'rt the lord of this castle, 

Sae weel it pleases me ! 
For, ere I cross the Border fells, 

The tane of us shall die." 

He took a lang spear in his hand. 

Shod with the metal free, 
And for to meet the Douglas there, 

He rode right furiouslie. 

But O how pale his lady look'd, 

Frae aff the castle wa', 
When down before the Scottish spear 

She saw proud Percy fa'. 

« Had we twa been upon the green, 
And never an eye to see. 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 21 

I wad liae had you, flesh and felP ; 
But your sword sail gae wi' mu." 

" But gae ye up to Otterbourne, 

And wait there dayis three ; 
And if I come not ere three dayis end, 

A i'ause knight ca' yc me." 

" The Otterbourne's a bonnie burn ; 

'Tis pleasant there to be ; 
But there is nought at Otterbourne, 

To feed my men and me. 

" The deer rins wild on hill and dale, 
The birds fly wild from tree to tree 

But there is neither bread nor kale. 
To fend my men and me. 

" Yet I will stay at Otterbourne, 

Where you shall welcome be ; 
And if ye come not at three dayis end, 

A fause lord I'll ca' thee." 

" Thither will I come," proud Percy said, 

" By the might of Our Ladye ! " 
" There will I bide thee," said the Douglas, 

*' My troth I plight to thee." 



1 Douglas insinuates that Percy was rescued by his 
soldiers. — S. 



22 THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNl^ 

They lighted high on Otterbourne, 

Upon the bent sae brown ; 
TJiey lighted high on Otterbourne, 

And threw their pallions down. 

And he that had a bonnie boy, 

Sent out his horse to grass ; 
And he that had not a bonnie boy, 

His ain servant he was. 

But up then spake a little page, 

Before the peep of dawn — 
" waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, 

For Percy's hard at hand." 

" Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud ! 

Sae loud I hear ye lie : 
For Percy had not men yestreen 

To dight my men and me. 

" But I have dream'd a dreary dream, 

Beyond the Isle of Sky ; 
I saw a dead man win a fight. 
And I think that man was I.'* 

He belted on his guid braid sword, 

And to the field he ran ; 
But he forgot the helmet good. 

That should have kept his brain. 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 23 

When Percy wi' the Douglas met, 

I wat be was fu' fain ; 
They swakked their swords, till sair they swat, 

And the blood ran down like rain. 

But Percy with liis good broad sword, 

That could so sharply wound, 
Has wounded Douglas on the brow. 

Till he fell to the ground. 

Then he call'd on his little foot-page, 

And said — " Run speedilie, 
And fetch my ain dear sister's son, 

Sir Hugh Montgomery. 

" My nephew good," the Douglas said, 

" What recks the death of ane ! 
Last night I dream'd a dreary dream. 

And I ken the day's thy ain. 

'* My wound is deep ; I fain would sleep; 

Take thou the vanguard of the three, 
And hide me by the braken bush, 

That grows on yonder lilye lee. 

'* bury me by the braken bush, 

Beneath the blooming brier, 
Let never living mortal ken 

That ere a kindly Scot lies here.** 



24 THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE, 

He lifted up that noble lord, 

Wi' the saut tear in his ee ; 
He hid him in the braken bush, 

That his merrie-raen might not see. 

The moon was clear, the day drew near, 

The spears m flinders flew, 
But mony a gallant Englishman 

Ere day the Scotsmen slew. 

The Gordons good, in English blood . 

They steep'd their hose and shoon ; 
The Lindsays flew like fire about, 

Till all the fray was done. 

The Percy and Montgomery met, 

That either of other were fain ; 
They swapped swords, and they twa swat. 

And aye the blood ran down between. 

'* Now yield thee, yield tbee, Percy," he said, 
" Or else I vow I'll lay thee low ! " 

" To whom must I yield," quoth Earl Percy, 
" Now that I see it must be so ? " 

^ Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun, 
Nor yet shalt thou yield to me ; 

But yield thee to the braken bush, 
That grows upon yon lilye lee." 



THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOr. 25 

" I will not yield to a braken bush, 

Nor yet will I yield to a brier ; 
But I would yield to Earl Douglas, 

Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he wen 
here." 

As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, 
He struck his sword's point in the gronde ; 

Tlie Montgomery was a courteous knight, 
And quickly took him by the honde. 

This deed was done at the Otterbourne, 

About the breaking of the day ; 
Earl Douglas was buried at the braken bush 

And the Percy led captive away.^ 



THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 

In the Battle of Otterbourne the story is told with all 
the usual accuracy of tradition, and the usual fairness 
i>f partizans. Not so with the following ballad, which 
is founded on the same event. " That which is com- 
monly sung of the Hunting of Cheviot" says Hume 
of Godscroft truly, "seemeth indeed poetical, and a 

1 Douglas was really buried in Melrose Abbey, where 
his tomb is still to be seen. 



26 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 

mere fiction, perhaps to stir up virtue ; yet a fiction 
whereof there is no mention either in the Scottish or 
EngUsh chronicle." When this ballad arose we do 
not know, but we may suppose that a considerable 
dme would elapse before a minstrel would venture to 
treat an historical event with so much freedom. 

We must, however, allow some force to these remarks 
of Percy : " With regard to the subject of this ballad, 
although it has no countenance from history, there is 
room to think it had originally some foundation m 
fact. It was one of the laws of the Marches, fre- 
quently renewed between the nations, that neither 
partv should hunt in the other's borders, w^ithout 
leavt from the proprietoi's or their deputies. There 
had long been a rivalship between the two martial 
families of Percy and Douglas, which, heightened by 
the national quarrel, must have produced frequent 
challenges and struggles for superiority, petty inva- 
sions of their respective domains, and sharp contests 
for the point of honour ; which would not always be 
recorded in history. Something of this kind, we may 
suppose, gave rise to the ancient ballad of the Hunting 
a' the Chenat. Percy Earl of Northumberland had 
vowed to hunt for three days in the Scottish border, 
without condescending to ask leave from Earl Doug- 
las, who was either lord of the soil, or lord warden of 
the Marches. Douglas would not fail to resent the 
insult, and endeavour to repel the intruders by force : 
this would naturally produce a sharp conflict between 
the two parties ; something of which, it is probable, 
did really happen, though not attended with the 
tragical circumstances recorded in the ballad : for 
these are evidentlv borrowed from the Battle of Otter 



THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 27 

bourn, a very different event, but wliicli aftertimes 
would easily confound with it." * 

The ballad as here printed is of the same age as 
the preceding. It is extracted from Hearne's Preface 
to the History of Guilielmus Neubrigensis, p. Ixxxii. 
Hearne derived his copy from a manuscript in the 
Ashmolean collection at Oxford, and printed the 
text in long lines, which, according to custom, are 
now broken up into tAvo. 

The manuscript copy is subscribed at the end 
" Expliceth quoth Rychard Sheale." Kichard Sheale 
(it has been shown by a writer in the British Bib- 
liographer, vol. iv. p. 97-105) was a minstrel by pro- 
fession, and several other pieces in the same ^IS. 
have a like signature with this. On this ground it 
has been very strangely concluded that Sheale was 
not, as Percy and Ritson supposed, the transcriber, 
but the actual author of this noble ballad. The glar- 
mg objection of the anticjuity of the language has 



* Tlie Editor of the Beliques afterwards met with the fol- 
lowing passage in Collins's Peerage, which he thought might 
throw some light on the question of the origin of the 
ballad 

•' In this .... year, 1436, according to Hector Boethius, 
was fought the battle of Pepperden, not far from the Cheviot 
Hills, between the Earl of Northumberland [lid Earl, son of 
Hotspur], and Earl William Douglas, of Angus, with a small 
array of about four thousand men each, in which the latter 
had the advantage. As this seems to have been a private 
couf.ict between these two great Chieftains of the Borders, 
rather than a national war, it has been thought to have given 
rise to the celebrated old ballad of Chevy-Chase; which to 
render it more pathetic and interesting, has been heightened 
with tragical incidents wholly fictitious." 



28 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 

been met, first, by the supposition that the author be- 
longed Uj the north of England, and afterwards, when 
it appeared that Sheale lived at TamAvorth, about a 
hundred miles from London, by the allegation that the 
language of a person in humble life in Warwickshire 
or Staffordshire would be very far behind the current 
speech of the metropolis. It happens, however, that 
the language of the ballad is very much older than 
the other compositions of Sheale, as a moment's in- 
spection will show. Besides, Sheale's poetical abilities 
were manifestly of the lowest order, and although he 
styles himself " minstrel," we have no reason to think 
that he ever composed ballads. He speaks of his 
memory being at one time so decayed that he " could 
neither sing nor talk." Being a mere ha\\R(\-singer and 
story-teller, he would naturally be dependent on that 
faculty. The fact is very obvious, that Richard 
Sheale was a mere reciter of songs and tales ; at any 
rate, that all we have to thank him for in the matter 
of Chevy Chase is for committing to paper the only 
old copy that has come down to our times.* 

The Huntinci of the Cheviot is mentioned in the 
Complaynt of Scotland with other, very ancient, 
ballads. It was consequently popular in Scotland 
in 1548, ten years before the time that we know 
Sheale to have written anything. The mention of 
James the Scottish King forbids us to assign this piece 
an earlier date than the reign of Henry VI. 

It has been customary to understand Sidney^s 



* We regret that even Dr. Rimbault has hastily sanc- 
tioned this ascription of Chevy-Chase to the "sely" min 
ctrel of Tarn worth. 



THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 29 

saying of tlie "old song of Percy and Douglas" — 
that it moved his heart more than a trumpet — ex- 
clusively of Chevy Chase. There is no question 
which ballad would stand higher in the estimation of 
the o^entle knight, but the terms bv which the war- 
flong he admired is described are of course equally 
applicable to The Battle of Otterhourne. By the way 
we may remark that if we do understand Sidney to 
have meant Chevy Chase, then, whatever opinion 
writers of our day may have of its antiquity, and 
however probable it may seem to them that Chevy 
Chase was written by a contemporary of Sir Philip, 
it appeared to the author of the Defence of Poetry to 
be " evil apparelled in the dust and cobweb of an 
uncivil age " I 

THE FIRST FIT. 

The Perse owt off Northombarlande, 

And a vowe to God mayd he, 
That he wold hunte in the mountayns 

Off Chyviat within days thre. 
In the manger^ of doughte Dogles, 

And all that ever with him be. 

The fattiste hartes in all C'leviat 

He sayd he wold kill, and cary them away : 
^* Be my feth," sayd the dougheti Doglas agayn, 

" I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may." 

^ raagger 



JO THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 

Then^ the Perse owt of Banborowe cam, 

\yith him a myghtee meany ; 
With fifteen hondrith archares bold off blood and 
bone, 

The wear chosen owt of shyars thre.^ 

This begane on a Monday at morn, 

In Cheviat the hillys so he ; 
The chyld muy rue that ys un-born, 

It was the mor pitte. 

The dryvars throrowe the woodes went, 

For to reas the dear ; 
Bomen byckarte uppone the bent 

With ther browd aras cleare. 

Then the wyld thorowe the woodes went, 

On every syde shear ; 
Grea-hondes thorowe the grevis glent, 

For to kyll thear dear. 

The begane in Chyviat the hyls above, 
Yerly on a Monnyn day ; 

1 The the. 2 archardes. 

3 By these shyars Hire is probably meant tliree distriota 
in Northumberland, which still go by the name of shi7'es, and 
are all in the neighbourhood of Cheviot. These are Island' 
g/ifrc, being the district so named from Holy-Island: Nore- 
hamshire, so called from the town and castle of Noreham (or 
Norham) : and BamLoroughshire, the ward or hundred belong- 
ing to Bamborough-castle and town. — Pekcy. 



THE HUNTING! OP THE CHEVIOT. 81 

Be that it drewe to the oware off none, 
A hondrith fat hartes ded ther lay. 

The blewe a mort^ uppone the bent, 

The sembljd on sydis shear ; 
To the quyrry then the Perse went. 

To se the bryttlynge off the deare. 

He sayd, " It was the Duglas promys 

This day to met me hear ; 
But I wyste he ^v•old faylle, verament : '* 

A great oth the Perse swear. 

At the laste a squyar of Northombelonde 

Lokyde at his hand full ny ; 
He was war a' the^doughetie Doglas comynge, 

With him a myghtte raeany ; 

Both with speai, byll,^ and brande ; 

Yt was a myghti sight to se ; 
Hardyar men, both off hart nar hande, 

Wear not in Christiante. 

The wear twenty hondrith spear-men good, 

Withowte any feale ; 
Tlie wear borne along be the watter a Twyde, 

Yth' bowndes of Tividale. 



1 blwe a mot. 2 ath the. 

3 brylly. 



32 THE HUNTING OF i^E CHEVIOT. 

" Leave of the brytlyng of the dear," he sayde, 
" And to your bowys^ lock ye ta} k good heed ; 

For never sithe ye wear on your mothars borne 
Had ye never so mickle ned." 

The dougheti Dogglas on a stede 

He rode att his men beforne ; 
His armor glytteryde as dyd a glede ; 

A bolder barne was never born. 

" Tell me whos men ye ar," he says, 

" Or whos men that ye be : 
Who gave youe leave to hunte in this Chyviat 
chays. 

In the spyt of me ? " 

The first mane that ever him an answear mayd, 

Yt was the good lord Perse : 
" We wyll not tell the whoys men we ar," he 
says, 

" Nor whos men that we be ; 
But we wyll hount hear in this chays. 

In the spyt of thyne and of the. 

'' The fattiste hartes in all Chyviat 

We have kyld, and cast to carry them a-way : * 
^ Be my troth," sayd the doughte Dogglas agayn, 

" Ther-for the ton of us shall de this day." 

1 boys. - agay. 



THE HUNTING OP THE CHEVIOT. 33 

Then sayd the doughte Doglas 

Unto the lord Perse : 
" To kyll all thes giltles men, 

Alas, it wear great pitte ! 

" But, Perse, thowe art a lord of lande, 
I am a yerle callyd within my contre ; 

Let all our men uppone a parti stande, 
And do the battell off the and of me." 

" Nowe Cristes cors on his crowne," sayd the^ lord 
Perse, 

" Whosoever ther-to says nay ; 
Be my troth, doughtte Doglas," he says, 

" Thow shalt never se that day. 

" Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar France, 

Nor for no man of a woman born. 
But, and fortune be my chance, 

I dar met him, on man for on." 

Then bespayke a squyar off Northombarlonde, 
Richard Wytharyngton was him nam ; 

•* It 'shall never be told in Sot he- Ynglonde," he 
says, 
" To kyng Herry the fourth for sham. 



- s:iyd tbp the. 
VOL. VII. 3 



34 THE HUNTING OF TH2 CHEVIOT. 

"I wat youe bjn great lordes twaw, 

I am a poor squyar of lande ; 
1 wyll never se my captayne fygbt on a fylde, 

And stande myselfFe, and loocke on, 
But whyll I may my weppone welde, 

I wyll not [fayl] both hart and hande." 

Tliat day, that day, that dredfull day !^ 

The first fit here I fynde ; 
And youe wyll here any mor a' the hountyng a' 
the Chyviat, 

Yet ys ther mor behynd. 



THE SECOND FIT. 

The Yngglyshe men hade ther bowys yebent,- 

Ther hartes were good yenoughe ; 
The first off arros that the shote off, 

Seven shore spear-men the sloughe. 

1 " That day, that day, that gentil day," is cited in The 
Comphnpit of Scotland, (ii. 101,) not, we imagine, as the tide 
of a balhid (.any more than " The Persee and the Mongiimrye 
met," ante, p. 19,) but as a line by which the song containing 
it might be recalled. 

- It is well known that the ancient English weapon was 
the long-bow, and that this nation excelled all others in 
archery, while the Scottish warriors chiefly depended on the 
use of the spear. This characteristic difference never escapes 
our ancient bard. — Picucy. 



THE HUNTING OF THE CHKVIOT. 35 

Yet bjddjs the yerle Doglas uppon the bent, 

A captayne good yenoughe, 
And that was sene verament, 

For he wrought horn both woo and wouche. 

The Dogglas pertyd his ost or thre, 

Lyk a chefFe cheften off pryde, 
With suar spears off myghtte tre, 

The cum in on every syde : 

Thrughe our Yngglyshe archery 

Gave many a wounde full wyde ; 
Many a doughete the garde to dy, 

Which ganyde them no pryde. 

The Ynglyshe men let thear bowys^ be, 
And pulde owt brandes that wer bright^; 

It was a hevy syght to se 

Bryght s\voi\les on basnites lyght. 

Throrowe ryche male and myneyeple, 
Many sterne the stroke downe^ streght; 

Many a freyke tlitit was full fre, 
Ther undar foot dyd lyght. 

A.t last the Duglas and the Perse met, 
Lykto^oaplayns of myglit and of mayne ; 



1 boys. 2 briggt. 

'^ done. * to, i. e. tow. 



36 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 

The swapte togethar tyll the both swat, 
With swordes that wear of fyn myllan. 

Thes worthe frecUys for to fyght, 

Ther-to the wear full fayne, 
Tyll the bloode owte off thear basnetes sprente, 

As ever dyd heal or rayne. ^ 

" Holde^ the, Perse," sayde the Doglas, 

" And i' fetli I shall the brynge 
Wher thowe shake have a yerls wagis 

Of Jamy our Scottish'^ kynge. 

" Thoue shake have thy ransom fre, 

I hight the hear this thinge. 
For the raanfullyste man yet art thowe, 

That ever I conqueryd in filde fightyng." 

" Nay," sayd the lord Perse, 

" I tolde it the beforne, 
That I wolde never yeldyde be 

To no man of a woman born." 

With that ther cam an arrowe^ hastely, 

Forthe off a myghtte wane ; 
Hit hathe strekene the yerle Duglas 

In at the brest bane. 

1 ran. ^ helde. s Scottih. 

* a narrowe. So again in v. 83, and a nowar in v. 90. 
This transference of final n to the succeeding word is of 
commou occurrence in old poetry. 



THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 37 

Throroue ly var and longs, bathe 

The sharp arrowe ys gane, 
That never after m all his lyffe-days, 

He spayke mo wordes but ane : L^^ay, 

That was, " Fyghte ye, my myrry men, whyllys ye 

For my lyff-days ben gan." 

The Perse leanyde on his brande. 

And sawe the Duglas de ; 
He tooke the dede mane be the hande. 

And sayd, " Wo ys me for the ! 

" To have savyde thy lyffe, I wolde have pertyde 
with 

My landes for years thre. 
For a better man, of hart nare of hande, 

"Was not in all the north contre." 

Off all that se a Skottishe knyght, 

Was callyd Sir Hewe the Monggonbyrry ; 

He sawe the Duglas to the deth was dyght, 
He spendyd a spear, a trusti tre : — 

He rod uppon a eorsiare 

Throughe a hondrith archery: 
He never stynttyde, nar never blane, 

Tyll he cam to the good lord Perse. 

He set uppone the lord Perse 
A dynte that was full snare ' 



38 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 

With a suar spear of a myghtte tre 

Clean thorow the body he the Perse ber, 

A'the tothar syde that a man myght se 

A large cloth yard and mare : 
Towe bettar captayns wear nat in Cristiante, 

Then that day slain wear ther. 

An archar off Northomberlonde 

Say slean was the lord Perse ; 
He bar a bende-bowe in his hand, 

Was made off trusti tre. 

An arow, that a cloth yarde was lang, 

To th' harde stele haylde he ; 
A dynt that was both sad and soar, 

He sat on Sir Hewe the Monggonbyrry. 

The dynt yt was both sad and soar, ^ 

That he on^Monggonberry sete ; 
The swane-fethars, that his arrowe bar. 

With his hart-blood the wear wete. 

Ther was never a freak e wone foot wolde fle, 

But still in stour dyd stand, 
Heawyng on yche othar, why 11 the myght dre. 

With many a balfull brande. 



•^ of. 



THE HUNTING OF TIIK CHEVIOT. 39 

This battell begane in Chyviat 

An owar befor the none. 
And Avben even-song bell was rang, 

The battell was nat half done. 



The tooke on ethar hand^ 

Be the Ijght off the raone ; 
jNLanj- hade no strenght for to stande, 

In Chyviat the hillys aboun.^ 

Of fifteen hondrith archars of Ynglonde 

Went away but fifti and thre ; 
Of twenty hondrith spear-men of Skotlonde, 

But even five and fifti : 

But all wear slayne Cheviat within ; 

The hade no strenge to stand on hy ; 
The chylde may rue that ys unborne, 

It was the mor pitte. 

Thear was slayne withe the lord Perse, 

Sir John of Agerstone, 
Sir Rogar, the hinde Hartly, 

Sir "VVyllyam, the bolde Hearone. 

Sir Jorg, the wortlie Lovele,^ 

A knyght of great renowen, 
Sir Raff, the ryche Rugbe, 

With dyntes wear beaten dowene. 

^ A word has dropped out 2 abou. ^ loule 



40 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 

For Wetharryngton my harte was wo, 

That ever he slayne shulde be ; 
For when both his leggis wear hewyne in to, 

Yet he knyled and fought on hys kny. 

Ther was slayne with the dougheti Duglas, 

Sir Hewe the Monggonbyrry, 
Sir Dary Lwdale,^ that worthe was, 

Hi a si stars son was he : 

His Charls a Murre in that place, 

That never a foot wolde fle ; 
Sir Hewe Maxwell, a lorde he was. 

With the Doglas dyd he dey. 

So on the morrowe the mayde them byears 

Off birch and hasell so gray 2 ; 
Many wedous with wepyng tears 

Cam to fach ther makys away. 

Tivydale may carpe off care, 

Northombarlond may raayk grat mon. 

For towe such captayns as slayne wear thear. 
On the March-perti shall never be non. 

Word ys commen to Eddenburrowe, 

To Jamy the Skottishe kyng, 
That dougheti Duglas, lyff-tenant of the Merches, 

He lay slean Chyviot with-in. 

1 Lwdale, i. e. Liddel. ^ gay. 



THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 41 

His handdes dyd he weal and wrjng, 

He sayd, "Alas, and woe ys me ! " 
Such an othar captnyn Skotland within,' 

He sayd, ye-feth shuld never be. 

Worde ys commyn to lovly London e, 

Till the fourth Hariy our kyng, 
That lord Perse, leyff-tenante^of theMerchis, 
- He lay slayne Chyviat within. 

" God have merei on his soil," sayd kyng Harry, 

" Good lord, yf thy will it be ! 
I have a hondrith captayns in Ynglonde," he sayd, 

"As good as ever was he : 
But Perse, and I brook my lyffe, 

Thy deth well quyte shall be." 

As our noble kyng mayd hig a-vowe, 

Lyke a noble prince of renowen, 
For the deth of the lord Perse 

He dyde the a; tell of Hombyll-down : 

Wher syx and thritte Skottishe knyghtes 

On a day wear beaten down : 
Glendale-glytterydeonther armor bryght, 

Over castill, towar, and town. 



1 cheyff. 

2 Gleiidale is one of the seven "vrards of Northnmber- 
land. In this district the village of Homildown is situated 
about a mile from Wooler. On the 14th of September, 1402 



42 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 

This was tlie Hontynge off the Cheviat; 

That tear begane this spurn : 
Old men that knowen the grownde well yenoughe, 

Call it the Battell of Otterburn. 

At Otterburn began this spurne 

Uppon a Monnjn^ day: 
Ther was the dougghte Doglas slean, 

The Perse never went away. 

Ther was never a tym on the March-partes 
Sen the Doglas and the Perse met, 

Bat yt was marvele, and the rede blude ronne 
not, 
As the reane doys in the stret. 

Jhesue Christ our ballys bete, 

And to the blys us brynge ! 
Thus was the Hountynge of the Chivyat : 

God send us all good endyng ! 

a battle was fought at this place between the Percys and 
Archibald, Earl of Douglas, in which the Scots were totally 
routed, and Douglas taken prisoner. 
I Konnyu. 



CHEVY-CHACE. 43 



CHEVY-CHACE. 

The text of this later ballad of Chevy-Chace is 
given as it appears in Old Ballads (1723), vol. i. p. 
ill, and in Dwrfey^s Pills to Purge Melancholy^ \o\. 
iv. p. 289, and differs very slightly from that of the 
Rcliques (i. 265), where the ballad was printed from 
the folio MS., compared with two other black-letter 
copies. 

The age of this version of the story Is not known, 
but it is certainly not later, says Dr. Rimbault, than 
the reign of Charles the Second. Addison's papers in 
the Spectator (Nos. 70 and 74) evince so true a percep- 
tion of the merits of this ballad, shorn as it is of the most 
striking beauties of the grand original, that we cannot 
but deeply regret his never having seen the ancient 
and genuine copy, which was published by Hearne 
only a few days after Addison died. Well might the 
Spectator dissent from the judgment of Sidney, if this 
were the rude and ill-apparelled song of a barbarous 



God prosper long our noble king, 

Our lives and safeties all ; 
A woful hunting once there did 

In Chevy-Chace befall. 

To drive the deer with hound and horn, 

Erie Piercy took his way ; 
The child may rue that is unborn, 

The hunting of that day. 



44 CHEVY-CHACE. 

The stout Earl of Northumberland 
A vow to God did make, 

His pleasure in the Scottish woods 
Three summer's days to take ; 

The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chace 

To kill and bear away : 
The tidings to Earl Douglas came, 

In Scotland where he lay. 

Who sent Earl Piercy present word, 
He would prevent his sport ; 

The English earl not fearing this, 
Did to the woods resort, 

With fifteen hundred bow-men bold 
All chosen men of might, 

Who knew full well in time of need 
To aim their shafts aright. 

The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran, 

To chase the fallow deer ; 
On Monday they began to hunt, 
. When day-light did appear. 

And long before high noon they had 
An hundred fat bucks slain ; 

Then having din'd, the drovers went 
To rouze them up again- 



CHEVY-CHACE. 45 

The bow-men rauster'd on the hills, 

Well able to endure ; 
Their backsides all, with special care, 

That day were guarded sure. 

Th.e hounds ran swiftly thro' the woods, 

The nimble deer to take, 
And with their cries the hills and dales 

An ecclio shrill did make. 

Lord Piercy to the quarry went. 

To view the tender deere ; 
Quoth he, " Earl Douglas promised 

This day to meet me heer. 

" If that I thought he would not come. 

No longer would I stay." 
With that, a brave young gentleman 

Thus to the Earl did say : 

" Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come, 

His men in armour bright ; 
Full twenty hundred Scottish spears. 

All marching in our sight. 

"All men of pleasant Tividale, 

Fast by the river Tweed : " 
" Then cease your sport," Erie Piercy said, 

"And take your bows with speed. 



46 CHEVY-CHACE. 

"And now with me, my countrymen, 
Your courage forth advance ; 

For there was never champion yet 
In Scotland or in France, 

" That ever did on horseback come, 

But, if my hap it were,^ 
1 durst encounter man for man, 

With him to break a spear." 

Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed, 

Most like a baron bold. 
Rode foremost of the company. 

Whose armour shone like gold. 

" Show me," he said, " whose men you be^ 

That hunt so boldly here, 
That, without my consent, do chase 

And kill my fallow-deer." 

The man that first did answer make 

' Was noble Piercy he ; 
Who said, " We list not to declare, 
Nor show whose men we be. 

" Yet we will spend our dearest blood, 

Thy chiefest hart to slay ; " 
Then Douglas swore a solemn oath, 

And thus in rage did say ; 

1^ since. — 0. B. 



CHEVY-CHACE. 

** Ere thus I will out-braved be, 

One of us two shall dye : 
I know thee well, an earl thou art ; 

Lord Piercy, so am I. 

" But trust me, Piercy, pity it werd, 

And great offence, to kill 
Any of these our harmless men, 

For they have done no ill. 

" Let thou and I the battel try, 

And set our men aside : 
**Accurs'd be he," Lord Piercy said, 

" By whom this is deny'd." 

Then stept a gallant squire forth, 
(Witherington was his name) 

Who said, " I would not have it told 
To Henry our king for shame, 

" That ere my captaine fought on foot, 

And I stood looking on : 
You be two earls," said Witherington, 

"And I a squire alone. 

" I'll do the best that do I may, 
While I have power to stand ; 

While I have power to wield my sword, 
I'll fiorht with heart and hand." 



48 CHEVY-CHACE. 

Our English archers bent their bows, 
Their hearts were good and true ; 

At the first flight of arrows sent, 
Full three score Scots they slew. 

To drive the deer with hound and horn, 
Earl Douglas had the bent ; 

A captain mov'd with mickle pride 
The spears to shivers sent. 

They clos'd full fast on every side, 
No slacknes there was found ; 

And many a gallant gentleman 
Lay gasping on the ground. 

O Christ ! it was a grief to see. 

And likewise for to hear. 
The cries of men lying in their gore, 

And scatter'd here and there. 

At last these two stout earls did meet 

Like captains of great might ; 
Like lions mov'd ^ they laid on load, 
' And made a cruel fight. 

They fought until they both did sweat, 
With swords of temper'd steel ; 

Until the blood, like drops of rain, 
They trickling down did feel. 

1 Percy has lions wood. 



CHEVY-CHACE. 

^' Yield thee, Lord Piercy," Douglas said ; 

" In fiiith I will thee bring, 
Where thou shalt high advanced be 

By James, our Scottish king. 

" Thy ransom I will freely give, 

And thus report of thee, 
Thou art the most couraj^ious knight 

That ever I did see. 

*^ No,i Douglas," quoth Earl Piercy then, 

" Thy proffer I do scorn ; 
I will not yield to any Scot 

That ever yet was born." 

With that, there came an arrow keen 

Out of an English bow. 
Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart, 

A deep and deadly blow : 

Who never spoke more words than these, 
" Fight on, my merry men all ; 

For why, ray life is at an end, 
Lord Piercy sees my fall." 

Tlien leaving life, Earl Piercy took 

The dead man by the hand ; 
Ind said, " Earl Douglas, for thy life 

Would I had lost my land ! 

1 To. 

VOL. VII. 4 



50 CHEVY-CHACE. 

" O Christ ! my very heart doth bleed 

With sorrow for thy sake ; 
For sure, a more renowned knight 

Mischance did never take." 

A knight amonofst the Scots there was, 
Which saw Earl Douglas dye. 

Who straight in wrath did vow revenge 
Upon the Earl Piercy. 

Sir' Hugh Montgomery was he call'd, 
Who, with a spear most bright, 

Well-mounted on a gallant steed, 
Ean fiercely thro' the fight ; 

And pass'd the English archers all. 

Without all dread or fear, 
And through Earl Piercy's body then 

He thrust hi? hat»:^ful spear. 

With such a veh'raent force and might 

He did his body gore, 
The spear ran through the other side 

A large cloth-yard, and more. 

So thus did both these nobles dye. 
Whose courage none could stain ; 

An English archer then perceiv'd 
The noble earl was slain. 



CHEVY-CHACE. 51 

He had a bow bent in his hand, 

Made of a trusty tree ; 
An arrow of a cloth-yard long 

Up to the head drew he. 

Against Sir Hugh Montgomery 

So right his shaft he set, 
The grey goose-wing that was thereon 

In his heart's blood was wet. 

This fight did last from break of day 

Till setting of the sun ; 
For when they rung the evening-bell, ^ 

The battel scarce was done. 

With the Earl Piercy, there was slain 

Sir John of Ogerton, 
Sir Robert RatclifF, and Sir John, 

Sir James, that bold baron. 

And with Sir George and good Sir James, 

Both knights of good account, 
Good Sir Ralph Rubby there was slain, 

Whose prowess did surmount. 



1 Sc. the Curfew bell, usually rung at eight o'clock: 
to which the modernizer apparently alludes, instead of the 
" Evensong bell," or bell for vespers of the original autlior 
before the Reformation. — Percy. 



52 CHEVY-CHA.CE. 

For Witherington needs must I wail, 

As one in doleful dumpsi; 
For when his legs were smitten off, 

He fought upon his stumps. 

And with Earl Douglas, there was slain 

Sir Hugh Montgomery, 
Sir Charles Currel, that from the field 

One foot would never fly. 

Sir Charles Murrel, of Rat cliff, too, 

His sister's son was he ; 
Sir David Lamb, so well esteem'd, 

Yet saved could not bee. 

And the Lord Maxwell in like wise 
Did with Earl Douglas dye ; 

Of twenty hundred Scottish spears 
Scarce fifty-five did fiy. 

Of fifteen hundred Englishmen, 
Went home but fifty-three ; 

The rest were slain in Chevy-Chace, 
Under the o-reen-wood tree. 



1 " I, as one in deep concern, must lament." The con- 
struction here has generally been misunderstood. — P. 

This phrase may help us to determine the date of the 
authorship of the ballad. "Doleful dumps" suggested 
nothing ludicrous to a writer of the age of Elizabeth, but not 
long after became burlesque. The observation is Percy's. 



CHEVY-CHACE. 53 

Next day did many widows come, 

Their husbands to bewail ; 
They wash'd their wounds in brinish tears, 

But^ all would not prevail. 

Their bodies, bath'd in purple blood, 

They bore with them away : 
They kiss'd them dead a thousand times, 

When they were clad in clay. 

This news was brought to Edinburgh, 
AVhere Scotland's king did reign, 

That brave Earl Douglas suddenly 
Was with an arrow slain. 

" heavy news," King James did say ; 

" Scotland can witness be, 
I have not any captain more 

Of such account as he." 

Like tidings to King Henry came. 

Within as short a space, 
That Piercy of Northumberland 

Was slaine in Chevy-Chace. 

" Now God be with him," said our king, 

" Sith 't will no better be ; 
T trust I have within my realm 

Five hundred as good as he. 

1 They.— 0. B. 



54 CHEVY-CHACE. 

" Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland saj, 

But I will vengeance take, 
And be revenged on them all, 

For brave Earl Piercy's sake." 

This vow full well the king perform'd, 

After, on Humbledown ; 
In one day, fifty knights were slain, 

With lords of great renown. 

And of the rest, of small account. 

Did many thousands dye : 
Thus endeth the hunting of Chevy-Chace, 

Made by the Earl Piercy. 

God save the king, and bless the land 

In plenty, joy, and peace ; 
And grant henceforth, that foul debate 

*Twixt noblemen may cease ! 



Sm ANDREW BARTON. 55 



SIR ANDREW BAllTON. 

From Percy's Eeliques, ii. 193. 

" The transactions which did the greatest honour 
to the Earl of Surrey and his family at this time 
[a. d. loll}, was their behaviour in the case of 
Barton, a Scotch sea-officer. This gentleman's father 
having suffered by sea from the Portuguese, he had 
obtained letters of marque for his two sons to make 
reprisals upon the subjects of Portugal. It is ex- 
tremely probable, that the court of Scotland granted 
these letters with no very honest intention. The 
council-board of England, at which the Earl of Surrey 
held the chief place, was daily pestered ^vith complaints 
from the sailors and merchants, that Barton, who was 
called Sir Andrew Barton, under pretence of search- 
ing for Portuguese goods, interrupted the English 
navigation. Henry's situation at that time rendered 
him backward from breaking with Scotland, so that 
their complaints were but coldly received! The Earl 
of Surrey, however, could not smother his indignation, 
but gallantly declared at the council-board, that while 
he had an estate that could furnish out a ship, or a 
son that was capable of commanding one, the narrow 
seas should not be infested. 

" Sir Andrew Barton, who commanded the two 
Scotch ships, had the reputation of being one of the 
ablest sea officers of his time. By his depredation a, 



56 SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

he had amassed great wealth, and his ships were very 
richly laden. Henry, notwithstanding his situation, 
could not refuse the generous offer made by the Earl 
of Surrey. Two ships were immediately fitted out, 
and put to sea with letters of marque, under his two 
sons. Sir Thomas and Sir Edward Howard. After 
encountering a great deal of foul weather, Sir Thomas 
came up with the Lion, which was commanded by 
Sir Andrew Barton in person ; and Sir Edward came 
up with the Union, Barton's other ship [called by 
Hall, the Bark of Scotland]. The engagement which 
ensued was extremely obstinate on both sides; but 
at last the fortune of the Howards prevailed. Sir 
Andrew was killed, fighting bravely, and encouraging 
his men with his whistle, to hold out to the last ; and 
the two Scotch ships, with their crews, were carried 
into the Biver Thames [Aug. 2, 1511]." (Guthrie's 
Peerage, as quoted by Percy.) 

An old copy in the precious Manuscript furnished 
the foundation for Percy's edition of this noble ballad. 
The editor states that the text of the original was so 
incorrect as to require emendations from black-letter 
copies and from conjecture. These emendations, 
where they are noted, we have for the most part 
disregarded- We would fain believe that nothing 
except a defect in the manuscript could have recon- 
ciled the Bishop to adopting the four lines with which 
the ballad now begins. 

The common, or black-letter copies, are somewhat 
abridged as well as modernized. One of these is 
given in the Appendix. 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 57 



THE FIRST PART. 



When Flora with her fragrant flowers 

Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaje, 
And Neptune with his daintye showers 

Came to present the monthe of Maye, 
King Henrye rode to take the ayre, 

Over the i-iver of Thames past hee ; 
When eighty merchants of London came, 

And downe they knelt upon their knee. 

" O yee are welcome, rich merchants. 

Good saylors, welcome unto mee : " 
They swore by the rood, they were saylors good, 

But rich merchants they cold not bee. 
" To France nor Flanders dare we pass, 

Nor Bordeaux voyage dare we fare ; 
And all for a robber that lyes on the seas. 

Who robbs us of our merchant ware." 

King Henrye frownd, and turned him rounde, 
And swore by the Lord that was mickle \^ 
might, 

" 1 thought he had not beene in the world, 
Durst have wrought England such unrighf* 

The merchants sighed, and said, "Alas !" 
And thus they did their answer frame ; 

1-4. from the printed copy. 



58 SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

" He is a proud Scott, that robbs on the seas, 
And Sir Andrewe Barton is his name." 

The king lookt over his left shoulder, 

And an angrje look then looked hee ; 
" Have I never a lorde in all ray realrae, 

Will feitch yond traytor unto mee ? " 
''^Yea, that dare I," Lord Charles Howard 
sayes ; 

" Yea, that dare I, with heart and hand ; 
If it please your grace to give me leave, 

Myselfe will be the only man." 

" Thou art but yong," the kyng replyed, 

" Yond Scott hath numbred manye a yeare : '* 
" Trust me, my liege, He make him quail, 

Or before my prince I will never appeare." 
" Then bowemen and gunners thou shalt have, 

And chuse them over my realme so free ; 
Besides good mariners, and shipp-boyes, 

To guide the great shipp on the sea." 

The first man that Lord Howard chose, 

Was the ablest gunner in all the realm, 
Thoughe he was threescore yeeres and ten ; 

Good Peter Simon was his name. 
" Peter," eais hee, " I must to the sea. 

To bring home a traytor live or dead ; 
Before all others I have chosen thee. 

Of a hundred gunners to be the head." 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 59 

''■ If yon, my lord, have chosen mee 

Of a hundred gunners to be the head, 
Then hang me up on your maine-mast tree, 

If I mis>e my marke one shilling bread." 
My lord then chose a boweraan rare. 

Whose active hands had gained fame^ ; 
In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne, 

And William Horseley was his name. 

" Horsley," sayd he, " I must with speede 

Go seeke a tray tor on the sea, 
And now of a hundred bowemen brave 

To be the head I have chosen thee." 
"If you," quoth hee, "have chosen mee 

Of a hundred bowemen to be the head. 
On your main-mast He hanged bee, 

If I miss twelvescore one penny bread." 

With pikes, and gunnes, and bowemen bold, 

This noble Howard is gone to the sea ; 
With a valyant heart and a pleasant clieare, 

Out at Thames mouth sayled he. 
And days he scant had sayled three. 

Upon the journey he tooke in hand, 
But there he mett with a noble shipp, 

And stoutely made itt stay and stand. 

" Thou must tell me," Lord Howard said, 
" Now who thou art, and what's thy name ; 
1 From the printed copy. 



60 SIR ANDREW BARTOK. 

And shewe me wliere thy dwelling is, 

And whither bound, and whence thou came." 

" My name is Henry Hunt," quoth hee, 
With a heavye heart, and a carefull mind ; 

" I and my shipp doe both belong 

To the Newcastle that stands upon Tyne." 

" Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henrye Hunt, 

As thou hast sayled by daye and by night, 
Of a Scottish robber on the seas ; 

Men call him Sir Andrew Barton, knight?'* 
Then ever he sighed, and sayd " Alas ! " 

With a grieved mind, and well-away, 
" But over-well I knowe that wight ; 

I was his prisoner yesterday. 

"As I was sayling uppon the sea, 

A Burdeaux voyage for to fare. 
To his hach-borde^ he clasped me. 

And robd me of all my merchant ware. 
And mickle debts, God wot, I owe, 

And every man will have his owne, 
And I am nowe to London bounde. 

Of our gracious king to beg a boone." 

^ That shall not need," Lord Howard sais ; 

" Lett me but once that robber see, 
For every penny tane thee froe 

1 The MS. has here archborde, but in Part 11. v. 6 
hachebord. 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 61 

It shall be doubled shillings three." 
^ Nowe Gode forefend," the merchant said, 

" That you shold seek soe far amisse ! 
God keepe you out of that traitors hands ! 

Full litle ye wott what a man hee is. 

" Hee is brasse within, and Steele without, 

With beames on his topcastle stronge ; 
And eighteen pieces of ordinance 

He carries on each side along. 
And he hath a pinnace deerlye dight, 

St. Andrewes crosse, that is his guide ; 
His pinnace beareth ninescore men, 

And fifteen canons on each side. 

" Were ye twentye shippes, and he but one, 
I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall, 

He wold overcome them everye one,i 
If once his beames they doe downe fall." 

" This is cold comfort," sais my lord, 

" To Wellcome a stranger thus to the sea : 



1 It should pppi' fro'Ti hence, that before our marine 
artillery was brought to its present perfection, some naval 
commanders had recourse to instruments or machines, simi- 
lar in use, though perhaps unlike in construction, to the 
heavy Dolphins made of lead or iron used by the ancient 
Greeks ; which they suspended from beams or yards fastened 
to the mast, and which they precipitately let fall on the 
enemies' ships, in order to sink them, by beating holes 
through the bottoms of their undecked triremes, or other- 
wise damaging them. — Percy. 



62 SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

Yet Tie bring him and his shipp to shore, 
(^r to Scotland hee shall carrje raee." 

" Then a noble gunner jou must have, 

And he must aim well with his ee, 
And sinke his pinnace into the sea, 

Or else hee never orecorae will bee. 
And if you chance his shipp to borde, 

This counsel I must give withall, 
Let no man to his topcastle goe 

To strive to let his beams downe fall. 

"And seven pieces of ordinance, 

I pray your honour lend to mee, 
On each side of my shipp along, 

And I will lead you on the sea. 
A glasse He sett, that may be scene, 

Whether you sayle by day or night ; 
And to-morrowe, I sweare, by nine of the clocke, 

You shall meet with Sir Andrewe Barton, 
kniffht." 



THE SECOND PART. 

The merchant sett my lorde a glasse, 

Soe well apparent in his sight, 
And on the morrowe, by nine of the clocke, 

He shewed him Sir Andrewe Barton, knight. 



SIJl ANDREW BARTON. 63 

His hachebord it was hached with gold, 
Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee ; 

" Nowe by my faith," Lord Howarde sais^ 
" This is a galhuit sight tc see. 

" Take in your ancyeiits, standards eke. 

So close that no man may them see; 
And put me forth a white willowe wand, 

As merchants use to sayle the sea.'* 
But they stirred neither top nor mast^ ; 

Stoutly they past Sir Andrew by; 
" What English churles are yonder," he sayd, 

" That can soe litle curtesy e ? 

" Now by the roode, three yeares and more 

I have been admirall over the sea, 
And never an Enolish nor Portin^all 

Without my leave can passe this way." 
Then called he forth his stout pinnace ; 

" Fetch backe yond pedlars nowe to mee : 
I sweare by the masse, yon English churles 

Shall all hang att my maine-mast tree." 

With that the pinnace itt shott off; 

Full well Lord Howard might it ken ; 
For itt stroke down my lord's fore-mast, 

And killed fourteen of his men. 
" Come hither, Simon," sayes my lord, 

1 i. e. did not salute. 



6'4 SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

" Looke that thy word be true, thou said ; 
For at my main-mast thou shalt hang, 

If thou misse thy marke one shilling bread." 

Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold ; 

His ordinance he laid right lowe, 
He put in chaine full nine yardes long, 

"With otlier great shott, lesse and moe. 
And he lette goe his great gunnes shott ; 

Soe well he settled itt with his ee. 
The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe, 

He see his pinnace sunke in the sea. 

And when he saw his pinnace sunke. 

Lord, how his heart with rage did swell ! 
" Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon ; 

He fetch yond pedlars backe mysell." 
When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe loose, 

Within his heart hee was full faine ; 
" Nowe spread your ancyents, strike up drummes, 

Sound all your trumpetts out amaine." 

" Fight on, my men," Sir Andrewe sais, 

"" Weale, howsoever this geere will sway ; 
Itt is my lord admirall of England, 

Is come to seeke mee on the sea." 
Simon had a sonne, who shott right well, 

That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare ; 
In att his decke he gave a shott. 

Killed threescore of his men of warre. 



SIR ANDRETV BARTON. 65 

Then Heniye Hunt, with rigour hott, 

Came bravely on the other side ; 
Soone lie drove downe his fore-mast tree, 

And killed fourscore men beside. 
■' Nowe, out alas ! " Sir Andrewe cryed, 

" What may a man now thinke or say ? 
Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee, 

He was my prisoner yesterday. 

*' Come hither to me, thou Gordon good. 

That aye wast readye att my call ; 
I will give thee three hundred pounds, 

If thou wilt let my beames downe fall." 
Lord Howard hee then calld in haste, 

" Horselye, see thou be true in stead ; 
For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang, 

If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread." 

Then Gordon swarved the maine-mast tree. 

He swarved it with might and maine ; 
But Horseley with a bearing arrowe. 

Stroke the Gordon through the braine ; 
And he fell unto the hacbes again, 

And sore his deadlye wounde did bleede : 
Then word went through Sir Andrews men, 

How that the Gordon hee was dead. 

" Come hither to mee, James Hambihon, 

Thou art my only sisters sonne ; 
tf thou wilt let my beames downe fiall, 

VOL. VII. 5 



6G SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

Six hundred nobles^ thou hast wonne." 
With thafhe swarved the main-mast tree, 

He swarved it with nimble art ; 
But Horseley with a broad arrowe 

Piened the Hambilton thorough the heart. 

And downe he fell upon the deck, 

That with his blood did streame amaine : 
Then every Scott cryed, " Well-away ! 

Alas a comelye youth is slaine ! " 
All woe begone was Sir Andrew then, 

With griefe and rage his heart did swell; 
" Go fetch me forth my armour of proofs, 

For I will to the topcastle mysell. 

" Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe, 

That gilded is with gold soe cleare ; 
God be with my brother John of Barton ! 

Against the Portingalls hee it ware. 
And when he had on this armour of proofe, 

He was a gallant sight to see ; 
Ah ! nere didst thou meet with living wight, 

My deere brother, could cope with thee.'* 

'* Come hither, Horseley," sayes my lord, 
"•And looke your shaft that itt goe right ; 

Shoot a good shoote in time of need, 

And for it thou shalt be made a knight." 

1 pounds. MS. 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 67 

** He shoot my best," quoth Ilorseley then, 

*" Your honour shall see, with might and maine ; 

But if I were hanged at your maine-mast, 
I have now left but arrowes twaine." 

Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree, 

With right good will he swarved then , 
Upon his breast did Horseley hitt, 

But the arrow bounded back agen. 
Then Horseley spyed a privye place, 

With a perfect eye, in a secrette part ; 
Under the spole of his right arme 

He smote Sir Andrew to the heart. 

" Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes, 

"A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine ; 
He but lye downe and bleede a while, 

And then He rise and fio;ht a^-aine. ^ 
Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes, 

"And never flinche before the foe ; 
And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse, 

Untill you heare my whistle blowe." 

They never heard his whistle blow, 

Which made their hearts waxe sore adread : 

Then Horseley sayd, "Aboard, my lord, 
For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead." 



1 This stanza occurs also in Joknie Armstrang, vcl. vi. 
p. 44. 



68 SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

They boarded then his noble shipp, 

They boarded it with might and maine; 

Eighteen score Scots ahve they found, 
The rest were either maimed or slaine. 

Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand, 

And off he smote Sir Andrewes head ; 
" I must have left England many a daye, 

If thou wert alive as thou art dead." 
lie caused his body to be cast 

Over the liatchbord into the sea, 
And about his middle three hundred crownes : 

" Wherever thou land, this will bury thee." 

Thus from the warres Lord Howard came, 

And backe he sayled ore the maine; 
With mickle joy and triumphing 

Into Thames mouth he came againe. 
Lord Howard then a letter wrote, 

And sealed it Avith seale and ring ; 
" Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace 

As never did subject to a king. 

•* Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee, 

A braver shipp was never none ; 
Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr, 

Before in England was but one.^" 

1 That is the Great Harry, built in 1504, at an expense 
of fourteen thousand pounds. " She Avas," says Hume, 
"properly speaking, the first ship in the English navy. Be- 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 69 

King Henryes grace with royall cheere 
Welcomed the noble Howard home ; 

"And where," said he, " is this rover stout, 
That I myselfe may give the doome ? " 

" The rover, he i.^ safe, my leige, 

Full many a fadom in the sea; 
If he were alive as he is dead, 

I must have left England many a day. 
And your grace may thank four men i' the ship 

For the victory wee have wonne ; 
These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt, 

And Peter Simon, and his sonne." 

" To Henry Hunt," the king then sayd, 

" In lieu of what was from thee tane, 
A noble a day now thou shalt have, 

Sir Andrevves jewels and his chayne. 
And Horseley thou shalt be a knight, 

And lands and livings shalt have store ; 
Howard shall be Erie Surrye hight, 

As Howards erst have beene before.^ 

" Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old, 
I will maintaine thee and thy sonne ; 



fore this period, when the prince wanted a fleet, he had no 
other expedient than hiring or pressing ships from the mer- 
chants." 
^ Erie of Nottingham, And soe was never, &c. 



70 SIR ANDREW BARTOX. 

And the men shall have five hundred markes 
For the good service they have done." 

Then in came the queene with ladyes fair, 
To see Sir Andrewe Barton, knight ; 

They weend that hee were brought on shore, 
And thought to have seen a gallant sight. 

But when they see his deadlye face, 

And eyes soe hollow in his head, 
" I wold give," quoth the king, *' a thousand 
markes. 

This man were alive as hee is dead. 
Yett for the manfull part hee playd. 

Which fought soe well with heart and hand. 
His men shall have twelvepence a day. 

Till they come to my brother kings high land." 



FLODDEN FIELD. 71' 

FLODDEN FIELD. 

From Kitson's Ancient Sonr/s, ii. 70. 

"The battle of Flodden, in Northumberland, was 
fought the 9th of September, 1513, being the fifth 
year of King Henry the Eighth (who, with a great 
army, was then before Terouen in France), between 
Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, commander-in-chief 
of the English forces, and James the Fourth, Iving of 
Scots, with an inferior army of 15,000 men, who were 
entirely routed with great slaughter, their heroic sove- 
reign being left dead upon the field. 

" The following ballad may possibly be as ancient 
as any thing we have on the subject. It is given from 
The most pleasant and delectible history of Jo?in Winch- 
comb^ otherwise called JacJc of Newberry, written by 
Thomas Deloney, who thus speaks of it: 'In disgrace 
of the Scots, and in remembrance of the famous 
atchieved victory, the commons of England made this 
song, which to this day is not forgotten of many.' " 

This ballad is very evidently not the work of De- 
loney, but derived by him from tradition. 

There is a piece called Flodden Field in Herd's Scot- 
tish Songs, 1. 86. It isniade up of certain ridiculous 
anonymous verses, and of the stanzas written by Misa 
Jane Elliot and by Mrs. Cockburn to the old air 7'he 
Flowers of the Forest, — "I've heard them lilting," 
and " I've seen the smiling." The first and last lines 
of the first stanza of Miss Elliot's verses are from an 
ancient and now forgotten sons:. 



72 FLODDEN FIELD. 

"I've heard them lilting at the ewes milking 

The flowers of the forest are a' wede away." 

A lady repeated to Sir Walter Scott another frag- 
ment of the original ballad. 

" I ride single on my saddle, 

For the flowers of the forest are a' wede away." 

Minstrelsy, iii. 333 

King Jamie hath made a vow, 

Keep it well if he may ! 
That he will be at lovely London 

Upon Saint James his day. 

" Upon Saint James his day at noon, 

At fair London will I be. 
And all the lords in merry Scotland, 

They shall dine there with me." 

Then bespake good Queen Margaret, 

The tears fell from her eye : 
" Leave off these wars, most noble king, 

Keep your fidelity. 

" The water runs swift and wondrous deep 

From bottom unto the brim ; 
My brother Henry hath men good enough, 

England is hard to win." 



FLODDEN FIELD. 73 

"Away," quoth he, " with this silly fool ! 

In prison fast let her lye : 
For she is come of the English blood, 

And for these words she shall die." 

With that bespake Lord Thomas Howard, 
The Queens chamberlain that day ; 

" If that you put Queen Margaret to death, 
Scotland shall rue it alway." 

Then in a rage King Jamie did say, 

"Away with this foolish mome ! 
He shall be hang'd, and the other burn'd. 

So soon as I come home." 

At Flodden-field the Scots came in, 
Which made our Englishmen fain ; 

At Bramstone-green this battel was seen. 
There was King Jamie slain. 

Then presently the Scots did fly. 

Their cannons they left behind ; 
Their ensigns gay were won all away. 

Our souldiers did beat them blind. 

To tell you plain, twelve thousand were slain 

That to the fight did stand. 
And many a prisoner took that day, 

The best in all Scotland. 



74 QUEEN JEANIE. 

That clay made many a fatherless child,^ 

And many a widow poor, 
And many a Scottish gay hidy 

Sate weeping ^ in her bower. 

Jack with a feiher was lapt all in lether, 

His boastings were all in vain ; 
He had such a chance with [a] new morrice- 
dance, 

He never went home a";ain. 



QUEEN JEANIE. 

Jane Seymour, queen of Henry VIH, died shortly 
after giving birth to Prince Edward (Oct. 1537). 
There was a report that the Caesarian operation had 
been necessary to effect the dehvery, and on thig 
story the present ballad is founded. 

There is a woful ditty on this subject in Tlie Crown 
Garland of Golden Roses, Percy Society, vol. vi. p. 29 
(or Collection of Old Ballads, ii. 115). The following 
piece is popular throughout Scotland. It is taken 
from Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 116, A 
fragment had been previously published in Jamieson's 
Popular Ballads, i. 182. We have added another, 
but imperfect, version from a recent publication. 

1 This stanza is the sixth in Deloney's copy, and is 
there clearly misplaced. 

2 sweeping. 



QUEEN JEANIE. 75 

Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, travel'd six weeks 

and more, 
Till women and midwives had quite gi'en her o'er ; 
" O if ye were women as women should be, 
Ye would send for a doctor, a doctor to me ! " 

The doctor was called for and set by her bed- 
side, 

" What aileth thee, my ladie, thine eyes seem so 
red?" 

" O doctor, O doctor, will ye do this for me, 

To rip up my two sides, and save my babie ? " 

" Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that's the thing I'll 

ne'er do, 
To rip up your two sides to save your babie : " 
Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, travel'd six weeks 

and more. 
Till midwives and doctors had quite gi'en her o'er. 

" if ye were doctors as doctors should be, 

Ye would send for King Henry, King Henry to 
me:" 

King Henry was called for, and sat by her bed- 
side, 

" What aileth thee, Jeanie, what aileth my bride? " 

" King Henry, King Henry, will ye do this for 

me, 
To rip up my two sides, and save my babie ? " 



76 QUEEN JEANIE. 

" Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that's what I'll 

never do, 
To rip up jour two sides to save your babie." 

But with sighing and sobbing she's fallen in a 

swoon, 
Her side it was ript up, and her babie was found ; 
At this bonie babie's christ'ning there was meikle 

joy and mirth. 
But bonnie Queen Jeanie lies cold in the earth. 

Six and six coaches, and six and six more. 
And royal King Henry went mourning before ; 
O two and two gentlemen carried her away, 
But royal King Henry went weeping away. 

O black were their stockings, and black were 

their bands. 
And black were the weapons they held in their 

hands ; 
O black were their mufflers, and black were their 

shoes, 
And black were the cheverons they drew on their 

luves. 

They mourned m the kitchen, and they moum'd 

in the ha', 
But royal King Henry mourn'd langest of a'. 
Farewell to fair England, farewell for evermore, 
For the fair flower of England will never shine 

more! 



THE DEATH OF QUEEN JANE. 77 

TPIE DEATH OF QUEEN JANE. 

From Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Sovgs of the 
Peasantry of England, edited by Robert Bell. p. 113. 
TaKen down from the singing of a young gipsy girl. 

Queen Jane was in travail for six weeks or more, 
Till the women grew tired and fain would give 

o'er, 
" O women, O women, good wives if ye be, 
Go send for King Hem-ie, and bring him to me !'* 

King Henrie was sent for, he came with all 

speed, 
In a gownd of green velvet from heel to the head ; 
" King Henrie, King Henrie, if kind Henrie you 

be. 
Send for a surgeon, and bring him to me ! " 

The surgeon was sent for, he came with all speed, 
In a gownd of black velvet from heel to the head ; 
He gave her rich caudle, but the death-sleep slept 

she. 
Then her right side was opened, and the babe 

was set free. 

The babe it was christened, and put out and 

nursed. 
While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the 

dust. 



78 THE MURDER OF THE KING OP SCOTS. 



So black was the mourning, and white were the 

wands, 
Yellow, yellow the torches they bore in their 

hands ; 
The bells they were muffled, and mournful did 

play, 
Wliile the. royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the 
clay. 

Six knights and six lords bore her corpse through 

the grounds, 
Six dukes followed after, in black mourning 

gownds, 
The flower of Old England was laid in cold clay. 
Whilst the royal King Henrie came weeping 

away. 



THE MURDER OF THE KING OF SCOTS. 

Reliques of Ancient English Poetry^ ii. 210. 

" The catastrophe of Henry Stewart, Lord Darn- 
ley, the uniortunate husband of Mary Queen of Scots, 
is the subject of this ballad. It is here related in that 
partial imperfect manner, in which such an event 
would naturally strike the subjects of another king- 
dom, of which he was a native. Henry appears to 
have been a vain, capricious, worthless young maOf 



THE MURDER OF THE KING OF SCOTS. 79 

of weak understanding, and dissolute morals. But 
the beauty of bis person, and the inexperience of his 
youth, would dispose mankind to treat him with an 
indulgence, which the cruelty of his murder would 
afterwards convert into the most tender pity and 
regret : and then imagination would not fail to adorn 
his memory with all those virtues he ought to have 
possessed. 

" Darnley, who had been born and educated in 
England, was but In his 21st year when he was mur- 
dered, Feb. 9, 1567-8. This crime was perpetrated 
by the Earl of Bothwell, not out of respect to the 
memory of Riccio, but in order to pave the way for 
his own marriage with the queen. 

" This ballad (printed, wilh a few corrections, from 
the Editor's folio MS.) seems to have been written 
soon after Mary's escape Into England In 1568, see 
p. 82. — It will be remembered, at v. 5, that this 
princess was Queen Dowager of France, having been 
first married to Francis II., who died Dec. 4, 1560. — 
Percy. 



Woe worth, woe worth thee, false Scotlande ! 

For thou hast ever wrought by sleight ; 
The worthyest prince that ever was borne, 

You hanged under a cloud by night. 

The Queene of France a letter wrote, 
And sealed itt with harte and rinfje ; 

4nd bad*^ him come Scotland within, 

A.nd shee wold marry and crowne him kinge, 



80 THE MURDER OF THE KING OF SCOTS. 

To be a king is a pleasant thing, 

To bee a prince unto a peere : 
But you have heard, and soe have I too, 

A man may well buy gold too deare. 

There was an Italyan in that place, 
Was as well beloved as ever was hee, 

Lord David [Rizzio] was his name, 
Chamberlaine to the queene was hee. 

If the king had risen forth of his place, 

He wold have sate him downe in the cheare, 

And tho itt beseemed him not so well, 
Altho the kinge had beene present there. 

Some lords in Scotlande waxed wrothe, 
And quarrelled with him for the nonce ; 

I shall you tell how it befell, 

Twelve daojofers were in him att once. 



*oo" 



When the queene saw her chamberlaine was 
slaine, 

For him her faire cheeks shee did weete, 
Arid made a vowe, for a yeare and a day 

The king and shee wold not come in one sheete. 

Then some of the lords they waxed wrothe. 
And made their vow all vehementlye, 

For the death of the queenes chamberlaine, 
The kmg himselfe, how he shall dye. 



THE MURDER OF THE KING OF SCOTS. 81 

With gun-powder they strewed his roome, 

' And layd greene rushes in his way ; 
For the traitors thought that ve]y night 
This worthye king for to betray. 

To bedd the king he made him bowne ; 

To take his rest was his desire ; 
He was noe sooner cast on sleepe, 

But his chamber was on a biasing fire. 

Up he lope, and the window brake, 

And hee had thirtye foote to fall ; 
Lord Bodwell kept a privy watch. 

Underneath his castle wall. 

" Who have wee here ? " Lord Bodwell sayd ; 

" Now answer me, that I may know." 
" King Henry the eighth my uncle was ; 

For his sweete sake some pitty show." 

" Who have we here?" Lord Bodwell sayd; 

" Now answer me when I doe speake." 
" Ah, Lord Bodwell, I know thee well ; 

Some pitty on me I pray thee take." 

■' He pitty thee as much," he sayd, 
" And as much favor show to thee, 

A-s thou didst to the queenes chamberlaine, 
Thai day thou deemedst him to die." 
VOL. yii. 6 



82 THE RISING IN THE NORTH. 

Through halls and towers the king they ledd, 
Through towers and castles that were nye, 

Through an arbor into an orchard, 

There on a peare-tree hanged him hye. 

When the governor of Scotland heard 
How that the worthye king was slaine, 

He persued the .queen so bitterlye, 

That in Scotland shee dare not remaine. 

But shee is fledd into merry England, 
And here her residence hath taine, 

And through the Queene of Englands grace, 
In Endand now shee doth remaine. 



THE RISING IN THE NORTH. 

Percy's Reliques, i. 285. 

The subject of this ballad is the insurrection of the 
Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, in the 
twelfth year of Queen Elizabeth, 1569. 

These two noblemen were the leaders of the Cath- 
olic party in the North of England, and interested 
themselves wa»;mly in various projects to restore Mary 



THE RISING IN THE NORTH. 83 

Stuart to her liberty. When a marriage was proposed 
between the Duke of Norfolk and the Scottish Queen, 
they, with many of the first persons in the kingdom, 
entered zealously into the scheme, having the ulterior 
view, according to Hume, of placing Mary on the 
throne of England. Norfolk endeavored to conceal 
his plans from Elizabeth, until he should form a com- 
bination powerful enough to extort her consent, but 
the Queen receive! information betimes, and commit- 
ted the Duke to the Tower. Several of his abettors 
were also taken into custody, and the two Northern 
Earls were summoned to appear at court, to answer 
to the charge of an intended rebellion. They had 
proceeded too far to trust themselves willingly in the 
hands of their enraged sovereign, and the summons 
precipitated them into an insurrection for which they 
were not prepared. . They hastily gathered their 
followers, and published a manifesto, in which they 
declared that they maintained an unshaken allegiance 
to the Queen, and sought only to re'establish the 
religion of their ancestors, and to restore the Duke 
of Norfolk to liberty and to the Queen's favor. 

" Their common banner (on which was displayed 
the cross, together with the five wounds of Christ,) 
was borne by an ancient gentleman, Richard Norton, 
Esq., of Norton-Conyers : who with his sons (among 
whom, Christopher, Marmaduke, and Thomas, ai'e 
expressly named by Camden) distinguished himself 
on this occasion. Having entered Durham, they tore 
the Bible, &c., and caused mass to be said there : they 
then marched on to Clifford Moor near Wetherbye, 
where they mustered their men. Their intention was 
to have proceeded on to York; but, altering their 



84 THE RISING IN THE NORTH. 

minds, they fell upon Barnard's castle, wliich Sir 
George Bowes held out against them for eleven days.** 
— Percy. 

The insurgents' army amounted to about six thou- 
sand men. The Earl of Sussex, supported by Lord 
Hunsdon and others, marched against them with 
seven thousand, and the Earl of Warwick Avith still 
greater farces. Before these superior numbers the 
rebels dispersed without striking a blow. Northum- 
berland fled to the Scots, by whom, as we shall see 
in the next ballad, he was betrayed to Elizabeth. 
The Earl of Westmoreland escaped to Flanders, and 
died there in penury. 

Another outbreak following close upon the above 
was suppressed by Lord llunsdon. Great cruelties 
were exercised by the victorious party, no less than 
eight hundred having, it is said, sufiered by the hands 
of the executioner. 

The ballad was printed by Percy from two MS. 
copies, one of them in the editor's folio collection. 
" They contained considerable variations, out of which 
such readings were chosen as seemed most poetical 
and consonant to history." 

'' The Fate of the Kortons," we need hardly say, 
forms the subject of Wordsworth's White Doe of 
Rylstone. 



Listen, lively lordlings all, 

Lithe and listen unto mee, 
^d I will sing of a noble earle, 

The noblest earle in the north countiie. 



THE RISING IN THE NORTH. 85 

Earle Parcy is into his garden gone, 
And after him walkes his fivve ladie: 

*• I heard a bird sing in mine eare, 
That I must either fight or flee." 

" Now heaven forefend, my dearest lord, 
That ever such harm should hap to thee ; 

But goe to London to the court, 
And faire fall truth and honestie." 

** Now nay, now nay, my ladye gay;, 

Alas ! thy counsell suits not mee ; 
Mine enemies prevail so fast, 

That at the court I may not bee." 

" goe to the court jet, good my lord, 
And take thy gallant men with thee ; 

If any dare to doe you wrong. 

Then your warrant they may bee." 

" Now nay, now nay, thou lady faire, 

The court is full of subtiltie ; 
And if I goe to the court, lady, 

Never more I may thee see." 

" Yet goe to the court, my lord," she sayes, 

"And I myselfe will ride wi' thee : 
At court then for my dearest lord. 

His faithfull borrowe I will bee." 



8G THE RISING IN THE NORTH. 

Now nay, now nay, my lady deare ; 
Far lever bad I lose my life, 
Than leave among my cruell foes 
My love in jeopardy and strife. 

" But come thou hither, my little foot-page^ 

Come thou hither unto mee ; 
To maister Norton thou must goe 

In all the haste that ever may bee. 

" Commend me to that gentleman. 
And beare this letter here fro mee ; 

And say that earnestly I praye. 
He will ryde in my companie." 

One while the little foot-page went. 

And another while he ran ; 
Untill he came to his journeys end 

The httle foot-page never blan. 

When to that gentleman he came, 
Down he kneeled on his knee, 

And tooke the letter betwixt his hands, 
And iett the gentleman it see. 

And when the letter it was redd 
Affore that goodlye companye, 

I-wis, if you the truthe wold know, 
There was many a weepynge eye. 



THE RISING IN THE NORTH. 87 

He sayd, " Come hither, Christopher Norton, 
A gallant youth thou seemst to bee ; 

What doest thou counsell me, my sonne, 
Now that good erle's in jeopardy?" 

" Father, my counselle's fair and free ; 

That erle he is a noble lord, 
And whatsoever to him you hight, 

I wold not have you breake your word." 

" Gramercy, Christopher, my sonne, 

Thy counsell well it liketh mee, 
And if we speed and scape with life. 

Well advanced shalt thou bee." 

"• Come you hither, mine nine good sonnes, ' 

Gallant men I trowe you bee : 
How many of you, my children deare, 

Will stand by that good erle and mee ? " 

Eight of them did answer make, 

Eight of them spake hastilie, 
** O father, till the daye we dye 

We'll stand by that good erle and thee." 

1 The Act of Attainder, 13th Elizabeth, only mentions 
Richard Norton, the father, and seven sons, and in " a list of 
the rebels in the late Northern rebellion that are fled beyond 
seas," the same seven sons are named. Richard Norton, 
tbe father, was living long after the rebellion in Spanish 
Fivinders. See Sharp's Bishoprick Garland, p. 10. 



OO THE RISING IN THE NORTH. 

" Gramercj now, my children deare, 

You sliowe yourselves right bold and brave ; 

And whethersoe'er I live or dye, 
A fathers blessing you shal have." 

" But what sa}st thou, Francis Norton ? 

Thou art mine oldest sonn and heire ; 
Somewhat lyes brooding in thy breast; 

Whatever it bee, to mee declare." 

" Father, you are an aged man ; 

Your head is white, your bearde is gray ; 
It were a shame at these your yeares 

For you to ryse in such a fray." 

*' Now fye upon thee, coward Francis, 
Thou never learnedst this of mee ; 

When thou wert yong and tender of age, 
Why did I make soe much of thee ? " 

** But, father, I will wend with you, 

Unarm'd and naked will I bee ; 
And he that strikes against the crowne, 

Ever an ill death may he dee." 

Then rose that reverend gentleman. 
And with him came a goodlye band, 

To join with the brave Erie Percy, 
And all the flower o' Northumberland. 



THE RISING 7N THE NORTH. 89 

With them the noble Nevill came, 
The erle of "Westmorland was hee : 

At Wetherbye they mustred their host, 
Tliirteen thousand faire to see. 

Lord Westmorland his ancyent raisde, 

The DunBulP he rays'd on hye, 
And three Dogs with golden collars 

Were there sett out most royallye. 

Erie Percy there his ancyent spred. 
The Halfe-Moone" shining all soe faire : 

1 The supporters of the Nevilles Earls of Westmore- 
land were two bulls argent, ducally collar' d gold, armed or, 
&c. But I have not discovered the device mentioned in 
the ballad, among the badges, &c., given by that house. 
This however is certain, that, among those of the Nevilles, 
Lord Abergavenny (who were of the same family), is a dun 
cow with a golden collar; and the Nevilles of Chyte in 
Yorkshire (of the Westmoreland branch), gave for their 
crest, in 1513, a dog's (greyhound's) head erased. — So that 
it is not improbable but Charles Neville, the unhappy Earl 
of Westmoreland here mentioned, might on this occasion 
give the above device on his banner. — After all, our old min- 
strel's verses here may have undergone some corruption ; for, 
in another ballad in tlie same folio MS., and apparently 
written by the same hand, containing the sequel of this Lord 
Westmoreland's history, his banner is thus described, more 
conformable to his known bearings: 
*' Sett me xip my faire Dun Bull, 

With Gilden Horjies, hee beares all soe hyej'^ — P. 

^ The Silver Crescent is a well-known cicst or badge 
of the Northumberland family. It was probably brought 
^me from s-Dme of the crusades against the Sarazens — P. 



90 THE RISING IN THE NORTH. 

Tlie Nortons ancjent had the crosse. 

And the five wounds our Lord did beare. 

Then Sn* George Bowes he straitwaye rose, 
After them some spoyle to make ; 

Those noble erles turn'd backe again e, 
And aye they vowed that knight to take. 

That baron he to his castle fled 
To Barnard castle then fled hee ; 

The uttermost walles were eathe to win, 
The carles have won them presentlie. 

The uttermost walles were lime and bricke, 
But thoughe they won them soon anone, 

Long e'er they wan the innermost walles, 
For they were cut in rocke of stone. 

Then newes unto leeve London came. 
In all the speede that ever might bee, 

And word is brought to our royall queene 
Of the rysing in the North countrie. 

Her grace she turned her round about. 
And like a royall queene shee swore, 

" I will ordayne them such a breakfast. 
As never was in the North before." 

Shee caus'd thirty thousand men be rays'd, 
With horse and harneis faire to see ; 



THE RISING IX THE NORTH. 91 

She caused thirty thousand men be raised, 
To take the earles i' th' North countrie. 

Wi' them the false Erie Warwick went, 
Th' Erie Sussex and the Lord Hunsden ; 

Until] they to Yorke castle came, 
I-wiss they never stint ne blan. 

Now spred thy ancyent, Westmorland, 
Thy dun bull faine would we spye : 

And thou, the Erie o' Northumberland, 
Now rayse thy half moone up on hye. 

But the dun bulle is fled and gone, 
And the halfe moone vanished away : 

The erles, though they were brave and bold, 
Against soe many could not stay. 

Thee, Norton, wi* thine eight good sonnes. 
They doom'd to dye, alas for ruth ! 

Thy reverend lockes thee could not save. 
Nor them their faire and blooming youthe. 

Wi' them full many a gallant wight 

They cruellye bereav'd of life : 
And many a childe made fatherlesse. 

And widowed many a tender wife. 



92 NURTHUilBERLAND 



NORTHUMBERLAND BETRaYEI' 3Y 
DOUGLAS. 

Percy's Reliques, i. 295. 

The Earls of Xorthumberland and Westmoreland, 
after the dispersion of their forces took refuge with 
the Scots on the Borders. The Elliots drove them 
from Liddesdale, and they sought the protection of 
the Armstrongs in the Debatable Land. Northum- 
berland took up his residence w4th a man of that tribe 
called Hector of Harlaw, rclj-ing on his plighted faith 
and on his gratitude for many past favors. By this 
miscreant the Earl was betrayod for money to the 
Regent Murray. He '""^<- <t- "led in Lochleven 
Castle until 1572, when he was uanded over to Lord 
Hunsden, and executed at York. 

We are assured that this Hector, who had been 
rich, fell into poverty after his treachery, and became 
so infamous that "to take Hector's <\r\.-" was a 
proverb for a man who betrayed his fr* I. 

In Pinkerton's Poems from the Aiaiuu,ud MS. 
(pp. 219-234) are three bitter invectives on this sub- 
ject. In one of these we are told that the traitor 
Eckie of Harlaw said he sold the Earl " to redeem 
his pledge," that is, says Scott, the pledge which had 
been exacted from him for his peaceable demeanor. 

" The interposal of the Witch-Lady (v. 53) " hath 
some countenance from history ; for, about twenty-five. 



BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. 93 

years before, the Lady Jane Douglas, Lady Glamis, 
sister of the Earl of Angus, and nearly related to 
Douglas of Lough-leven, had suffered death for the 
pretended crime of witchcraft; who, it is presumed, 
is the witch-lady alluded to in verse 133. 

" The following is selected (like the former) from 
two copies, which contained great variations ; one of 
them in the Editor's folio MS. In the other copy 
some of the stanzas at the beginning of this ballad 
are nearly the same with what in that MS. are made 
to begin another ballad on the escape of the Earl of 
Westmoreland, who got safe into Flanders, and is 
feigned in the ballad to have undergone a great 
variety of adventures." — Percy. 



" HoAV long shall fortune faile me nowe, 
And harrowe me with fear and dread? 

How long shall I in bale abide. 
In misery my life to lead ? 

" To fall from my bliss, alas the while ! 

It was my sore and heavye lott ; 
And I must leave my native land, 

And I must live a man forgot. 

'' One gentle Armstrong I doe ken, 
A Scot he is, much bound to mee ; 

He dwelleth on the Border side, 
To him I'll goe right privilie." 



94 NORTHUMnERLAND 

Thus did the noble Percy 'plaine, 
With a heavy heart and wel-away, 

When he with all his gallant men 
On Bramham moor had lost the day. 

But when he to the Armstrongs came, 
They dealt with him all treacherouslye ; 

For they did strip that noble earle, 
And ever an ill death may they dye ! 

False Hector to Earl Murray sent, 
To shew him where his guest did hide, 

Who sent him to the Lough-leven, 
With William Douglas to abide. 

And when he to the Douglas came, 
He halched him right couiteouslie ; 

Say'd, " Welcome, welcome, noble earle. 
Here thou shalt safelye bide with mee." 

When he had in Lough-leven been 
Many a month and many a day. 
To the regent the lord warden sent, 
•That bannisht earle for to betray. 

He offered him great store of gold, 
• And wrote a letter fair to see. 
Saying, *' Good my lord, grant me my boon. 
And yield that banisht man to mee." 



BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. 95 

Earle Percy at the supper sate, 

With many a goodly gentleman ; 
The wylie Douglas then bespake, 

And thus to flyte with him began. 

•■^ What makes you be so sad, my lord. 
And in your mind so sorrowfullye ? 

To-morrow a shootinge will bee held 
Among the lords of the North countrye. 

" The butts are sett, the shooting's made, 

And there will be great royaltye ; 
And I am sworne into my bille, 

Thither to bring my Lord Percye." 

" ni give thee my hand, thou gentle Douglas, 
And here by my true faith," quoth hee, 

" If thou wilt ryde to the worldes end 
I will ryde in thy companye." 

And then bespake a lady faire, 

Mary a Douglas was her name ; 
" You shall byde here, good English lord, 

My brother is a traiterous man. 

" He is a traitor stout and stronge. 

As I tell you in privitie ; 
For he hath tane liverance of the erle, i 

Into England nowe to 'liver thee." 

1 Of the Earl of Morton, the Regent.— P 



96 NORTHUMBERLAND 

" Now nay, now nay, thou goodly lady, 

The regent is a noble lord : 
Ne for the gold in all England 

The Dougla.s wold not break his word. 

" When the regent was a banisht man, 
With me he did faire welcome find ; 

And whether weal or woe betide, 
I still shall find him true and kind. 

" Between England and Scotland it wold breake 
truce, 

And friends againe they wold never bee, 
If they shold 'liver a banisht erle, 

Was driven out of his own countrie." 

" Alas ! alas ! my lord," she sayes, 

" Nowe mickle is their traitorie ; 
Then lett my brother ryde his wayes. 

And tell those EngUsh lords from thee, 

" How that you cannot with him ryde. 
Because you are in an ile of the sea,-^ 

Then ere my brother come againe. 
To Edenborow castle lie carry thee. 



1 i. e. Lake of Leven, which hath communication with 
the sea. Edinburgh was at that time in the hands of the 
opposite faction. — P. 



BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. 97 

'^ To the Lord Hume I will thee bi-ing; 

He is well knowne a true Scots lord, 
And he will lose both land and life, 

Ere he with thee will break his word." 

'* Much is my woe," Lord Percy sayd, 
" When I thinke on ray own countrle, 

Wlien I thinke on the heavye happe 
INIy friends have suffered there for race. 

" Much is my woe," Lord Percy sayd, 

" And sore those wars my minde distresse ; 

Where many a widow lost her mate, 
And many a child was fatherlesse. 

" And now that I a banisht man 

Shold bring such evil happe with mee, 

To cause my f\iire and noble friends 
To be suspect of treacherie, 

" This rives my heart with double woe ; 

And lever had I dye this day, 
Than thinke a Douglas can be false, 

Or ever he will his guest betray." 

" If you'll give me no trust, my lord, 

Nor unto mee no credence yield, 
Yet step one moment here aside. 

He showe you all your foes in field." 

VOL. VIL 7 



98 N0RTHUMBEK,LAN1> 

" Ladj, I never loved witchcraft, 

Never dealt in privj wyle ; 
But evermore held the higli-waye 

Of truth and honour, free from guile." 

" If you'll not come yourselfe, my lorde, 
Yet send your chamberlaine with mee , 

Let me but speak three words with him. 
And he shall come again to thee." 

James Swynard with that lady went. 

She showed him through the weme of her ring 
How many English lords there were 

Waiting for his master and him. 

"And who walkes yonder, my good lady. 

So royallye on yonder greene ?" 
"O yonder is the Lord Hunsden^: 

Alas ! he'll doe you drie and teene " 

"And who beth yonder, thou gay ladye. 
That walkes so proudly him beside ? " 

" That is Sir William Drury,"^ shee sayd, 
"A keene captaine hee is and tryde." 

" How many miles is itt, madame. 

Betwixt yond English lords and mee ? " 

1 The Lord Warden of the East Marches.— P. 

2 Goveruor of Berwick. — P. 



BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. 99 

** JVlarry, it is thrice fifty miles, 
To saile to them upon the sea. 

" I never was on English ground, 

Ne never sawe it with mine eye, 
But as my book it sheweth mee, 

And through my ring I may descrye. 

" My mother shee was a witch ladye, 
And of her skille she learned mee ; 

She wold let me see out of Lough-leven 
What they did in London citie." 

" But who is yond, thou lady faire. 

That looketh with sic an austerne face ? " 

" Yonder is Sir John Foster,"^ quoth shee, 
" Alas ! he'll do ye sore disgrace." 

He pulled his hatt downe over his browe ; 

He wept, in his heart he was full of woe ; 
And he is gone to his noble lord, 

Those sorrowful tidings him to show. 

" Now nay, now nay, good James Swynard, 
I may not believe that witch ladie ; 

The Douglasses were ever true. 
And they can ne'er prove false to mee. 

^ Warden of the Middle-march. — P 



100 NORTHUMBERLAND 

" I have now in Lough-leven been 
The most part of these years three, 

Yett have I never had noe outrake, 
Ne no good games that I cold see. 

" Therefore I'll to yond shootmg wend, 
As to the Douglas I have hight : 

Betide me weale, betide me woe, 

He ne'er shall find my promise light,* 

He writhe a gold ring from his finger. 
And gave itt to that gay ladie : 

Sayes, " It was all that I cold save. 
In Harley woods where I cold bee." 

"And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord? 

Then farewell truth and honestie, 
And farewell heart, and farewell hand. 

For never more I shall thee see." 

The wind was faire, the boatmen call'd, 
And all the saylors were on borde ; 

Then William Douglas took to his boat, 
And with him went that noble lord. 

Then he cast up a silver wand. 

Says, " Gentle lady, fare thee well !** 

The lady fett a sigh soe deep. 

And in a dead swoone down shee fell. 



BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. 101 

»* Now let US goe back, Douglas," he sayd, 
" A sickness hath taken yond faire ladie ; 

If ought befall yond lady but good, 
Then blamed for ever I shall bee." 

" Come on, come on, my lord," he sayes, 
" Come on, come on, and let her bee ; 

There's ladyes enow m Lough-leven 
For to cheere that gay ladie." 

" If you'll not turne yourself, my lord, 
Let me goe with my chamberlaine ; 

We will but comfort that faire lady, 
And wee will return to you againe." 

" Come on, come on, my lord," he sayes, 
" Come on, come on, and let her bee ; 

My sister is craftye, and wold beguile 
A thousand such as you and mee.'* 

* When they had sayled fifty myle, 

Now fifty mile upon the sea, 
Hee sent his man to ask the Douglas, 

When they shold that shooting see." 

^ Faire words," quoth he, " they make fooles faine, 
And that by thee and thy lord is seen ; 

You may hap to thinke itt soone enough, 
Ere you that shooting reach, I ween." 



[02 NORTHUMBERLAND, ETC. 

Jamye his hatt pulled over his browe, 
He thought his lord then was betray'd ; 

And he is to Erie Percy againe, 
To tell him what the Douglas sajd. 

" Hold upp thy head, man," quoth his lord, 
" Nor therefore lett thy courage fayle ; 

He did it but to prove thy heart, 
To see if he cold make it quail." 

When they had other fifty sayld. 

Other fifty mile upon the sea. 
Lord Percy called to Douglas himselfe, 

Sayd, " What wilt thou nowe doe with mee ? * 

" Looke that your brydle be wight, my lord. 
And your horse goe swift as shipp att sea ; 

Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe, 
That you may pricke her while shee'll away." 

'• What needeth this, Douglas ? " he sayth ; 

" What needest thou to flyte with mee ? 
For I was counted a horseman good 

Before that ever I mett with thee. 

** A false Hector hath my horse, 

Who dealt with mee so treacherouslie ; 

A false Armstrong hath my spurres. 
And all the geere belongs to mee." 



KING OF SCOTS, ETC. 103 

When they had sayled other fifty mile, 

Other fifty mile upon the sea, 
They landed low by Berwicke side, 

A deputed laird ^ landed Lord Percye. 

Then he at Yorke was doomde to die, 

It was, alas ! a sorrowful sight ; 
Thus they betrayed that noble earle, 

Who ever was a gallant wight. 



KING OF SCOTS AND ANDREW BROWNR 

From Reliques of English Poetry^ ii. 217. 

" This ballad is a proof of the little intercourse 
that subsisted between the Scots and English, before 
the accession of James I. to the crown of England. 
The tale which is here so circumstantially related, 
does not appear to have had the least foundation in 
history, but was probably built upon some confused 
hearsay report of the tumults in Scotland during the 
minority of that prince, and of the conspiracies formed 
by different factions to get possession of his person. It 
should seem from ver. 97 to have been written during 
the regency, or at least before the death, of the Earl 
of Morton, who was condemned and executed June 2, 
1581 ; when James was in his fifteenth year. 

" The original copy (preserved in the archives of 

^ fol. MS. reads land, and has not the folio wicg stanza. 



tOA KING OF SCOTS 

the Antiquarian Society, London,) is entitled, A new 
ballad, declaring the great treason conspired against 
the young king of Scots, and how one Andrew Browne, 
an English-man, which was the king's chamherlaine, 
prevented the same. To the tune of Miljield, or els 
to Green-sleeves. At the end is subjoined the name 
of the author, W. Elderton. ' Imprinted at London 
Tor Yarathe James, dwelling in Newgate Market, over 
against Ch. Church,' in black-letter folio." — Percy. 

This ballad was licensed to James on the 30th of 
May, 1581. 

Out alas ! what a griefe is this. 

That princes subjects cannot be true, 
But still the devill hath some of his, 

Will play their parts whatsoever ensue ; 
Forgetting what a grievous thing 
It is to offend the anointed king! 
Alas for woe, why should it be so? 
This makes a sorrowful heigh ho. 

In Scotland is a bonnie kinge. 

As proper a youth as neede to be, 
Well given to every happy thing, 

That can be in a kinge to see : 
Yet that unluckie country still. 
Hath people given to craftie will. / 
Alas for woe, &c. 

On Whitsun eve it so befell, 

A posset was made to give the king, 



AND ANDREW BROWNE. 105 

Whereof his ladit} nurse hard tell, 

And that it was a poysoned thing : 
She cryed, and called piteouslie, 
" Now help, or else the king shall die I ** 
Alas for woe, &c. 

One Browne, that was an English man, 

And hard the ladies piteous crye, 
Out with his sword, and lestir'd him than, 

Out of the doores in haste to flie ; 
But all the doores were made so fast, 
Out r--" - v;indow he got at last. 
Alas i'or woe, &<\ 

He met the bishop coming fast. 

Having the posset in his hande : 
The sight of Browne made him aghast. 

Who bad him stoutly stale and stand. 
With him were two that ranne awa, 
For feare that Browne would make a fray. 
Alas, for woe, &c. 

** Bishop," quoth Browne, " what hast thou there? '' 

" Nothing at all, my friend," sayde he, 
'' But a posset to make the king good cheere." 
" Is it so ? " sayd Browne, " that will I see. 
First I will have thyself begin. 
Before thou go any further in ; 

Be it weale or woe, it shall be so. 
This makes a sorronful heigh hoo'* 



106 KING OF SCOTS 

The bishop sajde, "Browne, I doo know, 
Thou art a young man poore and bare ; 
Livings on thee I will bestowe ; 

Let me go on, take thou no care." 
" No, no," quoth Browne, " I will not be 
A traitour for all Christiantie: 

Happe well or woe, it shall be so. 
Drink now with a sorrowfuU," &c. 

The bishop dranke, and by and by 

His belly burst and he fell downe • 
A just rewarde for his traitery ! 

"This was a posset indeed," quoth Brown. 
He serched the bishop, and found the keyes, 
To come to the kinge when he did please. 
Alas for woe, &c. 

As soon as the king got word of this, 

He humbly fell uppon his knee, 
And praysed God that he did misse 

To tast of that extremity : 
For that he did perceive and know, 
His clergie would betray him so : 
Alas for woe, &c. 

*<Alas," he said, " unhappie realme, 
" My father, and grandfather slaine^ : 

1 His father was Henry Lord Damley. His grandfather, 
the old Earl of Lenox, regent of Scotland, and father of Lord 
Darnley, was murdered at Stirling, Sept. 5, 1571. — P. 



AND ANDREW BROWNE. 107 

My mother banished, extrearae 

Unhappy fate, and bitter bayne ! 
And now like treason wrought for me — 
What more unhappie realme can be ! " 
Alas for woe, &c. 

The king did call his nurse to his grace, 

And gave her twenty poundes a yeere ; 
And trustie Browne too in like case, 

He knighted him with gallant geere. 
And gave him lands and livings great. 
For dooing such a manly feat. 

As he did showe, to the bishop's woe. 
Which made, &c. 

When all this treason done and past 

Tooke not effect of traytery, 
Another treason at the last. 

They sought against his majestic ; 
How they might make their kinge away 
By a privie banket on a daye. 
Alas for woe, &c. 

' Another time' to sell the king 

Beyonde the seas they had decreede : 
Three noble Earles heard of this thing, 

And did prevent the same with speede. 
For a letter came, with such a charme. 
That tj;iey should doo their king no harme ; 
For further woe, if they did soe. 
Would make a sorrowful heigh hoe. 



108 MARY AMBREE. 

The Earle Mourton told the Douglas then, 

" Take heede you do not offend the king ; 
But shew yourselves like honest men 

Obediently in every thing ; 
For his godmother^ will not see 
Her noble child misus'd to be 

With any woe ; for if it be so, 
She will make," &c. 

God graunt all subjects may be true. 

In England, Scotland, every where, 
That no such daunger may ensue, 

To put the prince or state in feare : 
That God, the highest king, may see 
Obedience as it ought to be. 

In wealth or woe, God graunt it be so, 
To avoide the sorrowful heigh ho. 



MARY AMBREE. 

Reliques of Ancient English Poetry^ ii. 230. 

"In the year 1584, the Spaniards, under the com- 
mand of Alexander Farnese, Prince of Parma, began 
to gain great advantages in Flanders and Brabant, 
by recovering many strongholds and cities from the 

* 
1 Queen Elizabeth. 



MARY AMBREE. 109 

Hollanders, aa Ghent (called then by the English 
Gaunt), Antwerp, Mechlin, &e. See Stow's Annals, 
p. 711. Some attempt made with the assistance of 
English volunteers to retrieve the former of those 
places, probably gave occasion to this ballad. I can 
find no mention of our heroine in history, but the 
following rhymes rendered her famous among our 
poets. Ben Jonson often mentions her, and calls any 
remarkable virago by her name. See his Epiccene, 
first acted in 1609, Act 4, sc. 2: his Tale of a Tub, 
Act 4, sc. 4 : and his masque entitled The Fortunate 
Isles, 1G26, where he quotes the very words of the 
ballad, 

, Mary Ambree, 

(Who marched so free 

To the siege of Gau- 1, 

And death could not daunt. 

As the ballad doth vaunt) 

Were a braver wight, &c. 

She is also mentioned in Fletcher's Scornful Lady, 
Act 5, sub Jinem. 

" This ballad is piinted from a black-letter copy in 
the Pepys Collection, improved from the Editor's 
folio MS., and by conjecture. The full title is, " TAe 
valourous acts performed at Gaunt by the brave bonnie 
lass Mary Ambree, who, in revenge of her lovers deaths 
did play her part most gallantly. The tune is^ The 
blind beggar, &o.'" — Percy. 



When captaines couragious, whom death cold not 

daunte, 
Did march to the siege of the citty of Gaunt, 



110 MART AMBHEE. 

They mustred their souldiers by two and by 

three, 
And the formost in battle was Mary Ambree. 

When [the] ^ brave sergeant-major was slaine in 

her sight, 
Who was her true lover, her joy, and delight, 
Because he was slaine most treacherouslie, 
Then vowd to revenge him Mary Ambree. 

She clothed herselfe from the top to the toe, 
In buffe of the bravest, most seemelye to showe ; 
A faire shirt of male then slipped on shee : 
Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ^ 

A helmett of proofe shee strait did provide, 
A stronge arminge-sword shee girt by her side. 
On her hand a goodly faire gauntlett put shee : 
Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ? 

Then tooke shee her sworde and her targett in 

hand. 
Bidding all such, as wold, [to] bee of her band ; 
To wayte on her person came thousand and three: 
Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ? 

" My soldiers," she saith, " soe valliant and bold, 
Nowe foUowe your captaine, whom you doe 
beholde ; 

1 So P. C. Sir John Major in MS. 



MARY AMBREE. Ill 

Still formost in battell myselfe will I bee : " 
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? 

Then cryed out her souldiers, and loude they did 

say, 
" Soe well thou becomest this gallant array, 
Thy harte and thy weapons so well do agree, 
Noe mayden was ever like Mary Ambree." 

Shee cheared her souldiers, that foughten for life, 
With ancyent and standard,with drum and with fife, 
With brave clanging trumpetts, that sounded so 

free ; 
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree? 

" Before I will see the worst of you all 
To come into danger of death or of thrall. 
This hand and this life I will venture so free : " 
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? 

Shee ledd upp her souldiers in battaile array. 
Gainst three times theyr number by breake of 

the daye ; 
Seven bowers in skirmish continued shee : 
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree? 

She filled the skyes with the smoke of her shott, 
And her enemyes bodyes with bullets so hott ; 
For one of her owne men a score killed shee: 
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree r 



112 MART AMBREE. 

And when her false gunner, to spoyle her intent, 
Awaj all her pellets and powder had sent. 
Straight with her keen weapon shee slasht him in 

three : 
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? 

Being falselye betrayed for lucre of hyre, 
At length she was forced to make a retyre ; 
Then her souldiers into a strong castle drew 

shee: 
Was not this a brave bonny lassee, Mary Ambree? 

Her foes they besett her on everye side, 
As thinking close siege shee cold never abide ; 
To beate down the walles they all did decree : 
But stoutlye deffyd them brave Maiy Ambree. 

Then tooke shee her sword and her targett in 

hand, 
And mounting the walls all undaunted did stand, 
There daring their captaines to match any 

three : 
what a brave captaine was Mary Ambree ! 

" Now saye, English captaine, what woldest thou 

give 
To ransome thy selfe, which else must not live ? 
Come yield thy selfe quicklye, or slaine thou 

must bee : " 
Then smiled sweetlye brave Mary Ambree. 



MART AMBREE. 113 

•* Ye captaines couragious, of valour so bold, 
Whom tliinke you before you now you doe 

behold?" 
"A knight, sir, of England, and captaine see 

free, 
Who shortleye with us a prisoner must bee.'* 

" No captaine of England ; behold in your sight 
Two brests in my bosome, and therfore no 

knight : 
Noe knight, sirs, of England, nor captaine you 

see. 
But a poor simple mayden called Mary Ambree." 

" But art thou a woman, as thou dost declare, 
Whose valor hath proved so undaunted in warre ? 
If England doth yield such brave mayden as thee, 
Full well may they conquer, faire Mary Ambree." 

The prince of Great Parma heard of her renowne 
Who long had advanced for Englands faire 

crowne ; 
Hee wooed her and sued her his mistress to 

bee. 
And offerd rich presents to Mary Ambree. 

But this virtuous mayden despised them all : 
" He nere sell my honour for purple nor pall; 
^ mayden of England, sir, never will bee 
The whore of a monarcke," quoth Mary Ambree. 

VOL. VII. 8 



114 BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY. 

Then to her owne country shee backe did returne, 
Still holding the foes of faire England in scorne ; 
Therfore English captaines of every degree 
Sing forth the brave valours of Mary Ambree. 



BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY. 

Percy's Retiques, ii. 235. 

" Peregrine Bertie, Lord Willoughby of Eresby, 
had, in the year 1586, distinguished himself at the 
siege of Zutphen, in the Low Countries. He was the 
year after made general of the English forces in the 
United Provinces, in room of the Earl of Leicester, 
who was recalled. This gave him an opportunity of 
signalizing his courage and military skill in several 
actions agahist the Spaniards. One of these, greatly 
exaggerated by popular report, is probably the subject 
of this old ballad, which, on account of its flattering 
encomiums on English valour, hath always been a 
favourite with the people. 

•' Lord Willoughbie died in 1601. — Both Norris and 
Turner were famous among the military men of that 
age. 

" The subject of this ballad (which is printed from 
an old black-letter copy, with some conjectural emen- 
dations) may possibly receive illustration from what 
Chapman says in the dedication to his version of 
Homer's Frogs and Mice, concerning the brave and 



BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY. 115 

* 

memorable retreat of Sir John Norris, with only 1000 
men, through the whole Spanish army, under the 
Duke of Parma, for three miles together." Percy. 

Lord Willoughby was son of that Duchess of Suf- 
folk, whose extraordinary adventures, while in exile 
on the continent during the reign of Queen Mary, 
are the subject of an often-printed ballad called the 
Duchess of Suffolk's Calamity. See Strange Histories^ 
Percy Society, iii. 17, and the Appendix to this vol- 
ame. 

The fifteenth day of July, 

With glistering spear and shield, 
A famous fight in Flanders 

Was foughten in the field : 
The most couragious officers 

Were English captains three; 
But the bravest man in battel 

Was brave Lord Willoughbey. 

The next was Captain Norris, 

A valiant man was hee ; 
The other Captain Turner, 

From field would never flee. 
With fifteen hundred fighting men, 

Alas ! there were no more, 
They fought with fourteen thousand then^ 

Upon the bloody shore. 

** Stand to it, noble pikemen, 
And look you round about : 



11 G BRAVE LORD WILLOTJGHBEY. 

Aiid shoot you right, jou bow-merr, 
And we will keep them out. 

You musquet and caliver men, 
Do you prove true to me : 

rie be the formost man in fight,'* 
Says brave Lord Willoughbey. 

And then the bloody enemy 

They fiercely did assail, 
And fought it out most furiously, 

Not doubting tc prevail. 
The wounded men on both sides fell, 

Most pitious for to see. 
Yet nothing could the courage quell 

Of brave Lord Willoughbey. 

For seven hours, to all mens view, • 

This fight endured sore, 
Until our men so feeble grew 

That they could fight no more ; 
And then upon dead horses. 

Full savourly they eat. 
And drank the puddle water. 

They could no better get. 

"When they had fed so freely. 
They kneeled on the ground, 

And praised God devoutly 

For the favour they had found ; 

And beating up their colours, 



BRAVE LORD TTILLOUGHBEY. 11' 

The fight they did renew, 
And turning tow'rds the Spaniard, 
A thousand more they slew. 

The sharp steel-pointed arrows, 

And bullets thick did fly ; 
Then did our valiant soldiers 

Charge on most furiously: 
Wliich made the Spaniards waver ; 

They thought it best to flee ; 
They fear'd the stout behaviour 

Of brave Lord Willoughbey. 

Then quoth the Spanish general, 

" Come, let us march away ; 
I fear we shall be spoiled all 

If here we longer stay ; 
For yonder comes Lord Willoughbey, 

With courage fierce and fell ; 
He will not give one inch of way 

For all the devils in hell." 

And then the fearful enemy 

Was quickly put to flight, 
Our men persued couragiously. 

And caught their forces quite ; 
But at [the] last they gave a shout, 

AVhich ecchoed through the sky; 
« God and St. George for England! " 

The conquerers did cry. 



118 BRAVK LORD WILLOUGHBEY. 

This news was brought to England 

With all the speed might be, 
And soon our gracious queen was told 

Of this same victory. 
" O this is brave Lord Willoughbey, 

My love that ever won ; 
Of all the lords of honour, 

'Tis he great deeds hath done." 

To the souldiers that were maimed 

And wounded in the fray, 
The queen allow^ed a pension 

Of fifteen pence a day ; 
And from all costs and charges 

She quit and set them free : 
And this she did all for the sake 

Of brave Lord Willoughbey. 

Then courage, noble Englishmen, 

And never be dismaid ; 
If that we be but one to ten, 

We Will not be afraid 
To fight with foraign enemies, 

And set our nation free : 
And thus I end the bloody bout 

Of brave Lord Willoughbey. 



THE BONNT EARL OF MURRAY. 119 



THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY. 

From The Tea-Table Miscellany, ii. 188 

In consequence of a suspicion that the Earl of 
Murray had been party to an attempt of his cousin, 
the notorious Both well, against the person of the King 
(James VL), a commission was issued for bringing 
Murray before the sovereign for examination. The 
arrest was inconsiderately entrusted to the Earl of 
Huntly, Murray's mortal enemy. The young earl 
was at that time peacefully residing at Dunnibirsel, 
the house of his mother, Lady Downe. Huntly sur- 
rounded the place and summoned the inmates to 
surrender, and the demand not being complied with, 
set fire to the mansion. Murray escaped from the 
flames, but was overtaken by his foes and savagely 
slain. The event took place on the night of the 7th 
of February, 1592. 

The youth, beauty, and accomplishments of the 
victim of this outrage made him a favourite with the 
people, and there was a universal clamor for revenge. 
On the 1 0th of the month, proclamation was made for 
all noblemen and barons, in a great number of shires, 
to rise in arms, to join the King for the pursuit of the 
Earl of Huntly, who, however, surrendered himself, 
and was dismissed, on security for his appearance to 
answer for the crime. The moderation of James gave 
ri.se to a scandalous report, that the king countenanced 



120 THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY. 

the murderer, out of jealousy for the favor with which 
the bonny carl was regarded by the Queen. 

The ballad of Young Waters (vol. iii. p. 89) has, 
without convincing reasons, been supposed to be 
founded on tlie story of the Earl of Murray. 

The first of the two pieces which follow is from 
Ramsay's Tea-Tahle Miscellany. The second, which 
may perhaps be a part of the same ballad, was first 
printed in Finlay's collection. 



Ye Highlands, and ye Lawlands, 

O where have you been? 
They have slain the Earl of Murray, 

And they laid him on the green. 

'* Now wae be to thee, Huntly ! 

And wherefore did you sae ? 
I bade you bring him wi' you, 

But forbade you him to slay." 

He was a braw gallant, 

And he rid at the ring ; 
And the bonny Earl of Murray, 

O he might hae been a king. 

He was a braw gallant, 

And he play'd at the ba' ; 
And the bonny Earl of Murray 

Was the flower araans them a'. 



THE BONNIE EARL o' MUKRAr. 121 

He was a braw gallant, 

And he play'd at the glove ; 
And the bonny Earl of Murray, 

O he was the Queen's love 

O lang will his lady 

Look o'er the castle Down, 
Ere she see the Earl of Murray 

Come sounding? thro' the town. 



THE BONNIE EARL O' MURRAY. 

From Finlay's Scottish Ballads^ ii. 21. 

" Open the gates, 

And let him come in ; 
He is my brother Huntly, 

He'll do him nae harm." 



The gates they were opent, 
They let him come in ; 

But fause traitor Huntly, 
He did him great harm. 

He's ben and ben. 
And ben to his bed ; 

And with a sharp rapier 
He stabbed him dead. 



122 THE BONNIE EARL O' MURRAY. 

The lady came down the stair, 

Wringing her hands ; 
" He has slain the Earl o' Murray, 

The flower o' Scotland." 

But Huntly lap on his horse, 

Rade to the king : 
" Ye're welcome hame, Huntly, 

And whare hae ye been ? 

** Whare hae ye been ? 

And how hae ye sped ? " 
" I've killed the Earl o' Murray, 

Dead in his bed." 

" Foul fa' you, Huntly ! 

And why did ye so ? 
You might have ta'en the Earl o' Murray 

And saved his life too." 

" Her bread it's to bake, 

Her yill is to brew ; 
My sister's a widow, 
. And sair do I rue. 

** Her corn grows ripe, 

Her meadows grow green, 
But in bonny Dinnibristle 

I darena be seen.'* 



THE WINNING OF CALES» 123 



THE WINNING OF CALES. 

This is one of many exulting effusions which were 
called forth by the taking of Cadiz (vulgarly called 
Cales). The town was captured on the 21st of June, 
1596, the Earl of Effingham being high-admiral of the 
fleet, and Essex general of the land foiTes. Sir W. 
Raleigh, Lord Thomas Howard, and other distin- 
guished soldiers had commands in the expedition. 
The praise here bestowed on Essex's humanity was 
richly deserved, and the booty taken by the conquer- 
ors is not exaggerated. The whole loss of the Span- 
iards, in their city and their fleet, was estimated at 
twenty millions of ducats. 

We give this ballad from^ Deloney's Garland nj 
Good Will, as reprinted by the Percy Society, vol. 
XXX. p. 113. The copy in the Reliques (ii. 241), 
which was corrected by the editor, differs but shghtly 
from the present 

Long had the proud Spaniards 

Advanced to conquer us, 
Threatening our country 

With fire and sword ; 
Often preparing 

Their navy most sumptuous, 
With all the provision 

That Spain could afford. 



124 THE WINNING OF GALES. 

Dub a-dub, dub, 

Thus strike the drums, 
Tan-ta-ra, ta-ra-ra, 

The EngHshman comes. 

To the seas presently 

Went our lord admu'al, 
With knights couragious. 

And captains full good ; 
The earl of Essex, 

A prosperous general, 
With him prepared 

To pass the salt flood. 
Dub a-dub, &c. 

At Plymouth speedily. 

Took they ships valiantly; 
Braver ships never 

Were seen under sail ; 
With their fair colours spread, 

And streamers o'er their head; 
Now, bragging Spaniards, 

Take heed of your tail. 
Dub a-dub, &c. 

Unto Cales cunningly, 
Came we most happily. 

Where the kings navy 
Did secretly ride ; 

Being upon their backs, 
Piercing their buts of sack, 



THE WrNNIXO OF CALES. 125 

Ere that the Spaniards 

Our coming de.-^cry'd. 

Tan-ta-ra, ta-ra-ra, 

The Englishman comes ; 
Bounce a-bounce, bounce a-bounce, 
Off went the guns. 

Great was the crying. 

Running and ridings 
Which at that season 

Was made at that place ; 
Then beacons were fired, 

As need was required ; 
To hide their great treasure, 

They had little space : 
"Alas ! " they cryed, 
" English men comes." 

There you might see the ships, 

How they were fired fast, 
And how the men drown'd 

Themselves in the sea ; 
There you may hear them cry, 

Wail and weep piteously ; 
When as they saw no shift 

To escape thence away. 
Dub a-dub, &c. 

The great Saint Philip, 

The pride of the Spaniards, 



126 THE WINNING OF CALES. 

Was burnt to the bottom, 

And sunk in the sea ; 
But the Saint Andrew, 

And eke the Saint Matthew, 
We took in fight manfully, 

And brought them away. 
Dub a-dub, &c. 

The earl of Essex, 

Most valiant and hardy, 
With horsemen and footmen 

March'd towards the town ; 
The enemies which saw them, 

Full greatly affrighted, 
Did fly for their safeguard. 

And durst not come down. 
Dub a-dub, &c. 

" Now," quoth the noble earl, 

" Courage, my soldiers all ! 
Fight, and be valiant, 

And spoil you shall have ; 
And well rewarded all, 

From the great to the small ; 
But look that the women 

And children you save." 
Dub a-dub, &c. 

The Spaniards at that sight, 
Saw 'twas in vain to fight, 



THE WINNING OF CALES. 127 

Hung up their flags of truce, 

Yielding the town ; 
We march'd in presently. 

Deckino^ the walls on hiorh 
With our English colours, 

Which purchas'd renown. 
Dub a-dub, &c. 

Ent'ring the houses tnen, 

And of the richest men, 
For gold and treasure 

We searched each day ; 
In some places we did find 

Pye baking in the oven, 
Meat at the fire roasting, 

And men run away. 

Dub a-dub, &c. ■ 

Full of rich merchandise, 

Every shop we did see, 
Damask and sattins 

And velvet full fair ; 
Which soldiers measure out 

By the length of their swords ; 
Of all commodities, 

Each one hath share. 
Dub a-dub, &c. 

Thus Gales was taken, 
And our brave ojeneral 



li?8 siK JOHN suckling's campaign. 

March'd to the market-place, 

There he did stand • 
There many prisoners 

Of good account were took ; 
Many crav'd mercy, 

And mercy they found. 
Dub a-dub, &c. 

When as our general 

Saw they delayed time, 
And would not ransom 

The town as they said, 
With their fair wainscots, 

Their presses and bedsteads, 
Their joint-stools and tables, 

A fire we made : 
And when the town burnt in a flame, 

With tan-ta-ra, tan-ta-ra-ra, 
From thence we came. 



SIR JOHN SUCKLING'S CAMPAIGN. 

'• When the Scottish Covenanters rose up in arms, 
and advanced to the EngHsh borders in 1639, many 
of the courtiers complimented the king by raising 
forces at their own expense. Among these none were 
more distinguished than the gallant Sir John Suck- 



SIR JOHN suckling's CAMPAIGN. 129 

ling, who raised a troop of liorse, so richly accoutred, 
that it cost him 12,000/. The like expensive equip- 
ment of other parts of the army made the king 
remark, that " the Scots would fight stoutly, if it were 
but for the Englishmen's fine cloaths." AVhen they 
came to action, the rugged Scots proved more than 
a match for the fine showy Enghsh : many of whom 
behaved remarkably ill, and among the rest this splen- 
did troop of Sir John Suckling's." Percy. 

This scoffing ballad, sometimes attributed to Suck- 
ling himself, is taken from the Musarum Delicice of 
Sir John Menni.s and Dr. James Smith (p. 81 of 
the reprint. Upon Sir John Sucklingft most warlike 
preparations for the Scotish warYe). The former is 
said by \V^ood to have been the author. Percy's 
copy {Reliques, ii. 341) has one or two different read- 
ings. — The first stanza Is a parody on John Dory. 



Sir John got him an ambling nag, 

To Scotland for to ride-a, 
With a hundred horse more, all his own he swonj, 

To guard him on every side-a. 

No errant-knight ever went to fight 

With halfe so gay a bravado, 
Had you seen but his look, you'ld have sworn on 
a book, 

Hee'ld have conquer'd a whole armado. 

The ladies ran all to the windowes to see 
So gallant and warlike a sight-a, 
VOL. yii. 9 



100 SIR JOHN suckling's CAMPAIGN. 

And as he pass'd by, they began to cry, 
" Sir John, why will you go fight-a ? " 

But he, like a cruel knight, spurr'd on, 

His heart did not relent-a ; 
For, till he came thei-e, he shew'd no fear^ ; 

Till then why should he repent-a ? 

The king (God bless him !) had singular hopes 

Of him and all his troop-a : 
The borderers they, as they met him on the way. 

For joy did hollow and whoop-a. 

None lik'd him so well as his own colonel, 
Who took him for John de Weart-a^ ; 

But when there were shows of gunning and blows, 
My gallant was nothing so peart-a. 

For when the Scots army came within sight, 

And all men prepared to fight-a, 
He ran to his tent; they ask'd what he meant; 

He swore he must needs goe s a. 

The colonel sent for him back agen, 
To quarter him in the van-a, 

1 For till he came there, what had he to fear; 

Or why should he repent-a? Percy. 

2 John *de Wert was a German general of repntation 
ind the terror of the French in the reign of Louis XIIl 
Hence his name became proverbial in France, where he was 
Qalled De Vert. Pkrcy. 



THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH. 131 

But Sir John did swear, lie came not there 
To be kill'd the very first man-a. 

To cure his fear, he was sent to the rere, 

Some ten miles back, and more-a ; 
Where he did play at tre trip for hay, 

And ne'er saw the enemy more-a. 

But now there is peace, he's returned to increase 
His money, which lately he spent-a ; 

But his lost honor must still lye in the dust ; 
At Barwick away it went-a. 



THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH. 

From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 177. 

By a rapid series of extraordinary victories, (see 
The Haws of Crmndale, and The Battle of Alfonl in 
the Appendix,) Montrose had subdued Scotland to the 
royal arms, from the Grampians to Edinburjrh. After 
taking possession of the capital, he marched forward to 
the frontiers, with the intention of com])leting the sub- 
jugation of the southern provinces, and even of lead- 
ing his wild array into England to the support of King 
Charles. Having traversed the Border, and strength- 
ened his army (greatly diminished by the departure 
of the Irish and many of the Highlanders) with some 
small reinforcements, Montrose encamped on the 12th 
of September, 1645, at Philiphaugh, a large plain, 



132 THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHA.UGH. 

separated by the river Ettrick from the town of Sel- 
kirk, and extending in an easterly direction from a 
wooded hill, called the Harehead-wood, to a high 
ground which forms the banks of the river Tweed. 
Here the infantry were very conveniently disposed, 
while the general took up his quarters with all his 
cavalry at Selkirk, thus interposing a river between 
his horse and foot. This extraordinary error, whether 
rashness or oversight, was destined to be severely 
expiated. The very next morning, the Covenanters, 
under (Tcneral David Lesly, recalled from England by 
the danger threatened their cause by the victories of 
Montrose, crossed the Ettrick and fell on the encamp- 
ment of the infantry, unperceived by a single scout. 
A hopeless discomfiture was the natural consequence. 
Montrose, roused by the tiring, arrived with a few of 
his cavalry too late to redeem the day, and beheld hia 
army slaughtered, or scattered in a retreat in wliich he 
was himself fain to join. The fruit of all his victories 
was lost in this defeat, and he was never again able 
to make head in Scotland against the Covenanters. 

The following ballad was first printed by Sir Walter 
Scott, with prefatory remarks which we have here 
abridged. It is preserved by tradition in Selkirk 
ihire, and coincides closely with historical fact. 



On Pliiliphaugh a fray began, 
At Hairhead-wood it ended ; 

The Scots out o'er the Grcemes they ran, 
Sae merrily they bended. 



THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH. 133 

Sir David frae tlie Border came, 

Wi' heart an' hand came he ; 
Wi' him three thousand bonny Scots, 

To bear him company. 

Wi' him three thousand valiant men; 

A noble sight to see ! 
A cloud o' mist them weel conceal'd, 

As close as e'er might be. 

"When they came to the Shaw burn,^ 

Said he, " Sae weel we frame, 
I think it is convenient 

That we should sing a psalm." - 

When they came to the Lingly burn,^ 

As daylight did appear. 
They spy'd an aged father, 

And he did draw them near. 

" Come hither, aged father!" 

Sir David he did cry, 
" And tell me where Montrose lies, 

With all his great army." 



1 A small stream that joins the Ettrick near Selkirk, on 
the south side of the river. S. 

2 V'^arious reading: " That we should take a dram." S. 

8 A brook which falls into the Ettrick, from the north, a 
Httle above the Shaw laurii. S 



134 THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH. 

" But first you must come tell to me, 

If friends or foes you be ; 
I fear you are Montrose's men, 

Comefrae the north country. 

** No, we are nane o' Montrose's men, 

Nor e'er intend to be ; 
I am Sir David Lesly, i 

That's speaking unto thee.'* 

"If you're Sir David Lesly, 

As I think weel ye be, 
I am sorry ye hae brought so few 

Into your company. 

" There's fifteen thousand armed merii 

Encamped on yon lee ; 
Ye'll never be a bite to them, 

For aught that 1 can see. 

" But halve your men in equal parts. 

Your purpose to fulfill ; 
Let ae half keep the water side, 

The rest gae round the hill. 

" Your nether party fire must, 
Then beat a flying drum *, 

1 Montrose's forces amounted to twelve or fifteen hun- 
dred foot, and about a thousand cavadry. Lesly had five or 
six thousand men, mostly horse. 



THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH. 135 

And then they'll think the clay's their ain, 
And frae the trench they'll come 

" Then, those that are behind them, maun 

Gie shot, baith grit and sma' ; 
And so, between your armies twa, 

Ye may make them to fa'." 

" O were ye ever a soldier ? " 

Sir David Lesly said ; 
" O yes ; I was at Solway Flow,i 

"Where we were all betray 'd. 

"Again T was at curst Dunbar, 

And was a pris'ner ta'en ; 
And many weary night and day 

In prison I hae lien." 

" If ye will lead these men aright, 

Rewarded shall ye be ; 
But, if that ye a traitor prove, 

I'll hang thee on a tree." 

" Sir, I will not a traitor prove ; 
Montrose has plunder'd me ; 

Ml is a strange anachronism, to make this aged fathar 
state himself to have been at the battle of Solway Flow, 
which was fought a hundred years before Philiphaugh; and 
a still stranger, to mention that of Dunbar, which did not 
take place till five yeai-s after ^loutrose's defeat. S. 



136 THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH, 

I'll do raj best to banish him 
Away frae this country." 

He halved his men in equal parts. 

His purpose to fulfill ; 
The one part kept the water sidey 

The other gaed round the hill 

The nether party fired brisk, 
Then turn'd and seem'd to rin ; 

And then they a' came frae the trench, 
And cry'd, " The day's our ain ! " 

The rest then ran into the trench, 
And loosed their cannons a' : 

And thus, between his armies twa, 
He made them fast to fa'. 

Now let us a' for Lesly pray, 

And his brave company, 
For they hae vanquish'd great Montrose, 

Our cruel enemy. 



THE GALLANT GRAHAMS. 137 

THE GALLANT GRAHAMS. 

From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Boi'dei\ ii. 187 

J.N Ihis lament for the melancholy fate of INIontrose 
and his heroic companions, it was clearly the humble 
minstrel's aim to sketch the chief incidents in the 
great Marquis's career as the champion and the 
martyr of Royalty. The derangements and omissions 
which may be found in the verses as they now stand 
are but the natural effects of time. The ballad was 
first published in Scott's Minstrelsy^ as obtained from 
tradition, with enlargements and corrections from an 
old printed copy (entitled The Gallant Grahams of 
Scotland) furnished by Ritson. 

The summer following the rout at Philiphaugh, 
King Charles committed himself to the treacherous 
protection of the Presbyterians. They required of 
him that his faithful lieutenant should at once disband 
his forces and leave the country. During three years 
of exile, Montrose resided at various foreign courts, 
either quite inactive, or cultivating the friendship of 
the continental sovereigns, by whom he was over- 
whelmed with attentions and honors. The execution 
of the King drew from him a solemn oath " before God, 
angels, and men," that he would devote the rest of his 
life to the avenging the death of his master and reestab- 
lishing his son on the throne. He received from 
Charles H. a renewal of his commission as Captain-Gen- 
eral in Scotland, and while Charles was treating with 
the Commisfioners of the Estates concernino; his re.'sto 



138 THE GALLANT GRAHAMS. 

ration ("negotiations which Montrose regarded with no 
favor), set out for the Orkneys with a few hundred 
men, mostly Germans. His coming, even with this 
feeble band, struck a great terror into the Estates, and 
Lesly was ordered to march against him with four 
thousand men. Destitute of horse to bring liim intel- 
ligence, Montrose was surprised at Corbiesdale, on the 
confines of Ross-shire, by a body of Covenanting cav- 
alry under Colonel Strachan, which had been sent 
forward to check his progress. The whole of his little 
army was destroyed or made prisoners. Montrose 
escaped from the field after a desperate resistance, 
and finally gave himself up to Macleod of Assaint, 
who sold him to his enemies for four hundred bolls of 
meal! 

" He was tried," says Scott, " for what was termed 
treason against the Estates of the Kingdom; and, 
despite the commission of Charles for his proceed- 
ings, he was condemned to die by a Parliament who 
acknowledged Charles to be their king, and whom, on 
that account only, Montrose acknowledged to be a 
Parliament. 

(See Scott's Minstrehy, Hume, ch. Ix., and Na- 
pier's Montrose and the Covenanters.) 



Now, fare thee well, sweet Ennerdale^ 
Baith kith and countrie I bid adieu ; 

For I maun away, and I may not stay, 

To some uncouth land which I never knew. 

1 A corruption of Endrickdale. The principal and most 
Bucient possessions of the Montrose family lie along the 
water of Endrick, in Dumbartonshire. S. 



THE GALLANT GRAHAMS. 139 

To wear the blue I think it best,i 

Of all the colours that I see ; 
And I'll wear it for the gallant Grahams, 

That are banished from their countrie. 

I have no gold, I have no land, 

I have no pearl nor precious stane ; 

But 1 wald sell my silken snood, 

To see the gallant Grahams come hame. 

In "Wallace days, when they began, 

Sir John the Graham - did bear the gree 

Through all the lands of Scotland wide : 
He was a lord of the south countrie. 

And so was seen full many a time ; 

For the summer flowers did never spring, 
But every Graham, in armour bright, 

Would then appear before the king. 

They were all drest in armour sheen, 
Upon the pleasant banks of Tay ; 



i About the time when Montrose first occupied Aber- 
deen (1639) the Covenanters began to wear a blue ribbon, 
first as a scarf, afterwards in bunches in their caps. Hence 
the phrase of a true bhie Whig. The blue ribbon was one 
of " Montrose's whimsies," and seems to have been retained 
by his followers (see p. 141) after he had left the Covenanters 
for the king. 

2 The faithful friend and adherent of the immortal Wal- 
lace, slain at the battle of Falkirk. S. 



140 THE GALLANT GRAHAMS. 

Before a king they might be seen, 

These gallant Grahams in their array. 

At the Goukhead our camp we set, 
Our leaguer down there for to lay ; 

And, in the bonny summer light, 

We rode our white horse and our gray. 



Our false commander sold our king 

Unto his deadly enemie, 
Who was the traitor, Cromwell, then ; 

So I care not what they do with me. 

They have betray'd our noble prince, 
And banish'd liim from his royal crown ; 

But the gallant Grahams have ta'en in hand 
For to command those trahors down. 



In Glen-Prosen^ we rendezvous'd, 

March'd to Glenshie by night and day, 

And took the town of Aberdeen, 

And met the Campbells in their array. 

Five thousand men, in armour strong, 
Did meet the gallant Grahams that day 

At Inverlochie, where war began. 

And scarce two thousand men were they. 

1 Glen-Prosen is in Angus-shire. S. 



THE GALLANT GRAHAMS. 141 

Gallant Montrose, that chieftain bold, 

Courageous in the best degree. 
Did for the king fight well that day ; 

The Lord preserve his raajestie ! 

Nathaniel Gordon,^ stout and bold. 
Did for King Charles wear the blue ; 

But the cavaliers they all were sold, 
And brave Harthill,^ a cavalier too. 

And Newton-Gordon,^ burd-alone. 
And Dalgatie,^ both stout and keen, 

And gallant Veitch ^ upon the field, 
A braver face was never seen. 

1 Of the family of Gicht in Aberdeenshire. He was taken 
Bt Philiphaugh, and executed the 6th of January, 1646. 

2 Leith, of Harthill, was a determined loyalist, and 
hated the Covenanters, by whom he had been severely 
treated. S. 

3 Newton, for obvious reasons, was a common appellation 
of an estate, or barony, where a new edifice had been erected. 
Hence, for distinction's sake, it was anciently compounded 
with the name of the proprietor ; as, Newton-Edmonstone, 
Newton-Don, Newton-Gordon, &c. Of Newtown, I only ob- 
serve, that he was, like all his clan, a stead}^ loyalist, and a 
follower of Montrose. S. 

4 Sir Francis Hay, of Dalgatie, a steady cavalier, and a 
gentleman ot great galhintry and accomplishments. He was 
a faithful follower of Montrose, and was taken prisoner with 
him at his last fatal battle. He was condemned to death 
with his illustrious general. S. 

5 I presume this gentleman to have been David Veitch, 
brother to Veitch of Dawick, who, with many other of the 
Peebles -shire gentry, was taken at Philiphaugh. S. 



142 THE GALLANT GRAHAMS. 

Now, fare ye weel, Sweet Ennerdale ! 

Countrie and kin I quit ye free ; 
Cheer up your hearts, brave cavaliers, 

For the Grahams are gone to High Germany 



Now brave Montrose he went to France, 
And to Germany, to *gather fame ; 

And bold Aboyne is to the sea, 
Young Huntly^ is his noble name. 

Montrose again, that chieftain bold, 
Back unto Scotland fair he came, 

For to redeem fair Scotland's land. 

The pleasant, gallant, worthy Graham ! 

At the water of Carron he did begin, 
And fought the battle to the end ; 

Where there were kill'd, for our noble king, 
Two thousand of our Danish men. ^ 

Gilbert Menzies,'' of high degree. 

By whom the king's banner was borne ; 

1 James, Earl of Aboyne, who fled to France, and there 
iied heart-broken. It is said his death was accelerated by 
Ihe^ news of King Charles's execution. He became repre- 
jentative of the Gordon family (or Young Huntly, as the 
ballad expresses it) in conseqiience of the death of liis elder 
brother, Geoi'ge, who fell in the battle of Alford. S. 

2 Montrose's foreign auxiliaries, who, by the way, did not 
exceed 600 in all. S. 

8 Gilbert Menzies, younger of Pitfoddels, carried thti 



THE GALLANT GRAHAMS. 11^ 

For a brave cavalier was he, 
But now to gloiy be is gone 

Then woe to Stracban, and Ilacket^ baith ! 

And, Lesbe, ill death may thou die ! 
For ye have betray'd the gallant Grahams, 

Who aye were true to majestie. 

And the Laird of Assaint has seized Montrose, 
And had him into Edinburgh town ; 

And frae his body taken the liead, 
And quarter'd him upon a trone. 

And Huntly's^ gone the self-same way, 
And our noble king is also gone ; 

He suffer'd death for our nation. 

Our mournino; tears can ne'er be done. 



royal banner in Montrose's last battle. It bore the headless 
corpse of Charles I., with this motto, '■'■Judge and revenge my 
cause, Lord!'^ Menzies proved himself worthy of this 
noble trust, and, obstinately refusing quarter, died in defence 
of his charge. JkloxxKOSE's Memoirs. S. 

1 Sir Charles Hiicket, an officer in the service of the F.a 
tates. S. 

2 George Gordon, second Marquis of Huntly, one of the 
very few nobles in Scotland who had uniformly adhered to 
the King from the very beginning of the troubles, was 
beheaded by the sentence of the Parliament of Scotljind 
(so calling themselves) upon the 22d March, 164f), one 
month and twenty-two days after the martyrdom of his 
toaster. S. 



144 THE BATTLE OF LOUDON HILL. 

But our brave young king is now come home, 
King Charles the Second in degree ; 

The Lord send peace into his time, 
And God preserve his majestic I 



THE BATTLE OF LOUDON HILL. 

GiiAHAM of Claverhouse and Balfour of Kinloch, 
uommonly called Burly, the principal persons men- 
tioned in this ballad, are characters well known to the 
readers of Old Mortality^ in the earUer chapters of 
which the skirmish at Loudon Hill is described. 

A few weeks after the memorable assassination of 
Archbishop Sharpe, Robert Hamilton, a fierce Came- 
ronian, Burly, and a few others of the proscribed 
" Westlan' men " resolved to take up arms against the 
government. They began their demonstrations bi 
entering the royal burgh of Rutherglen, on the 29tb 
of May, 1679 (which, as the anniversary of the Resto- 
ration, was appointed by Parliament to be kept as ? 
holyday) extinguisliing the bonfires made in honor of 
the occasion, and burning at the cross certain acts ir 
favor of Prelacy and for the suppression of Conven 
tides. After this exploit, and affixing to the cross a 
solemn protest against the obnoxious acts, they en 
camped at Loudon Hill, being by this time increased 
to the number of five or six hundred men. Claver^ 



THE BATTLE OF LOUDON HILL. 145 

house was in garrison at Glasgow, and immediately 
marched against the insurgents, with about a hundred 
and fifty cavalry. Hamilton, the commander of the 
Whigs, had skilfully posted his men in a boggy strait 
with a broad ditch in front, and the dragoons in 
attempting to charge were thrown into utter disorder. 
At this critical moment they were vigorously attacked 
by the rebels and easily routed. Claverhouse barely 
escaped being taken prisoner, and lost some twenty 
of his troojjers, among them his cornet, Kobert Gra- 
ham, whose fate is alluded to in the ballad. Burly, 
though not the captain, was a prominent leader in 
this action. See Scott's Minstrelsy, vol. ii. 206, 
et seq. 



You'l marvel when I tell ye o' 
Our noble Burly and his train, 

When last he march'd up through the land, 
Wi' sax-and-tvventy Weatland men. 

Than they I ne'er o' braver heard, 
For they had a' baith wit and skill ; 

They proved right w^ell, as I heard tell, 
As they cam up o'er Loudon Hill, 

Weel prosper a' the gospel lads, 
That are into the west countrie, 

Aye wicked Claver'se to demean, 
And aye an ill deid may he die ! 
vol. VII. 10 



146 THE BATTLE OF LOUDON HILL. 

For he's drawn up i' battle rank, 
An' that baith soon an' hastilie ; 

But they wha live till simmer come, 
Some bludie days for this will see. 

But up spak cruel Claver'se, then, 
Wi' hastie wit, an' wicked skill ; 

" Gae fire on yon Westlan' men ; 
I think it is my sov'reign's will." 

But up bespake his Cornet, then, 
" It's be wi' nae consent o' me ! 

I ken I'll ne'er come back again, 
An' mony mae as weel as me. 

" There is not ane of a' yon men. 
But wha is worthy other three ; 

There is na ane amang them a', 
That in his cause will slap to die. 

" An' as for Burly, him I knaw ; 

He's a man of honour, birth, and fame 
Gie him a sword into his hand. 

He'll fight thysell an' other ten.' 

But up spake wicked Claver'se, then, 
I wat his heart it raise fu' hie ! 
, And he has cried that a' might hear, 
" Man, ye hae sair deceived me. 



THE BATTLE Ot LOUDOX HILL. 147 

*I ne\er ken'd the like afore, 

Na, never since I came frae hame, 
That jou sae cowardly here suld prove, 
' An' yet come of a noble Grieme." 

Bat up bespake his Cornet then, 
" Since that it is your honour's will, 

Mysell shall be the foremost man 
That shall gie fire on Loudon Hill. 

"At your command I'll lead them on, 
But yet wi' nae consent o' me ; 

For weel I ken I'll ne'er return, 
And mony mae as weel as me." 

Then up he drew in battle rank ; 

I wat he had a bonny train ! 
But the first time that bullets flew, 

Aye he lost twenty o' his men. 

Then back he came the way he gaed, 
I wat right soon and suddenly ! 

He gave command amang his men, 
And sent them back, and bade them flee 

Then up came Burly, bauld an' stout, 
Wi's little train o' Westland men, 

Wha mair than either aince or twice 
Li Edinburo;h confined had been. 



148 THE BATTLE OF BOTHWELL BRIDGE, 

They hae been up to London sent, 
An' yet they're a' come safely down ; 

Sax troop o' horsemen tliey hae beat, 
And chased them into Glasorow town. 



THE BATTLE OF BOTHWELL BRIDGE 

From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border^ ii. 237. 

The success of the Cameroulans at Loudon Hill 
mduced a considerable number of the moderate Pres- 
byterians to join the army of the insurgents. But 
though increased numbers gave the revolt a more 
formidable appearance, they cannot be said to have 
added much to the strength of the rebels, since there 
was no concert between the two factions, each having 
its own set of officers, and issuing contrary orders at 
the same time. An army of ten thousand men under 
the Duke of Monmouth advanced from Edinburgh 
against these distracted allies, who, in all not more 
than four thousand, were encamped near Hamilton, 
on the western side of the Clyde, and had posses- 
sion of the bridge between that point and the vil- 
lage of Bothwell. While the Duke was preparing 
to force a passage, the more moderate of the Whigs 
offered terms, and while they were debating the 
Duke's reply, the Cameronians, who bravely de* 
fended the bridge, were compelled to abandon their 



THE BATTLE OF BOTHWELL BRIDGE. 149 

post. The Duke's army then crossed the river without 
opposition, because the rebels were at that juncture oo 
cupied with cashiering their officers and electing new 
ones. The first discharge of Monmouth's cannon 
caused the cavalry of the Covenanters to wheel about, 
and their flight threw the foot into irrecoverable dis- 
order. Four hundred of the rebels were killed, and 
a body of twelve hundred surrendered at discretion, 
and were preserved from death by the clemency of 
the Duke. This action took place on the 2 2d of 
June, 1679. 

Scott informs us that there were two Gordons of 
Earlstoun engaged in the rebellion, a father and sou. 
The former was not in the battle, but was met hasten- 
ing to it by English dragoons, and was killed on his re- 
fusing to surrender. The son, who is supposed to be 
the person mentioned in the ballad, was of the milder 
Presbyterians, and fought only for freedom of con- 
science and relief from the tyrannical laws against 
non-conformists. He escaped from the battle, and 
after being several times condemned to die, was finally 
set at liberty, and restored to his forfeited estates. 

In this ballad Claverhouse's unsparing pursuit of 
the fugitives is imputed to a desire to revenge the 
death of his kinsman at Loudon Hill, and his anger 
at being thwarted Is, with great simplicity, asserted to 
have led to the execution of Monmouth. 

Scott's copy of this ballad was given from recitation. 
In the First Series of Laing's Fugitive Scottis/i Poetry^ 
there is an amusingly prosaic Covenanting ditty upon 
this subject, called Bothwell Lines, and in the Second 
Series, a Cavalier song, entitled The Battell of BodweU 
Bridge, or The Kings Cavileers Triumph. 



150 THE BATTLE OF BOTHWELL BRIDGE. 

" O, BiLLiE, billie, bonny billie, 

Will ye go to the wood wi' rae ? 
We'll ca' our horse hame raasterless, 

An' gar them trow slain men are we." 

** no, O no ! " says Earlstoun, 

" For that's the thing that mauna be ; 

For I am sworn to Bothwell Hill, 
Where I maun either gae or die." 

- So Earlstoun rose in the morning. 
An' mounted by the break o' day ; 
An' he has joined our Scottish lads, 
As they were marching out the way. 

" Now, farewell, father, and farewell, mother, 
And fare ye weel, my sisters three : 

An' fare ye weel, my Earlstoun, 
For thee again I'll never see ! " 

So they're awa' to Bothwell Hill, 

An' waly they rode bonnily ! 
When the Duke o' Monmouth saw them comin 

He went to view their company. 

" Ye' re welcome, lads," the Monmouth said, 
" Ye' re welcome, brave Scots lads, to me ; 

And sae are you, brave Earlstoun, 
The foremost o' your company ! 



THE BATTLE OF BOTHWELL BUIDGE. 151 

" But yield your weapons ane an a', 
O yield your weapons, lads, to me ; 

For gin ye'll yield your weapons up, 
Ye'se a' gae hame to your country." 

Out then spak a Lennox lad, 

And waly but he spoke bonnily ! 
*' I winna yield my weapons up. 

To you nor nae man that I see.** 

Then ho set up the flag o' red, 

A* set about wi' bonny blue ; 
" Since ye'll no cease, and be at peace, 

See that ye stand by ither true." 

They stell'd their cannons on the height, 
And showr'd their shot do\vn in the howe ; 

An' beat our Scots lads even down, 
Thick they lay slain on every knowe. 

As e'er you saw the rain down fa*. 
Or yet the arrow frae the bow% — 

Sae our Scottish lads fell even down, 
An* they lay slain on every knowe. 

" O hold your hand,'* then Monmouth cry'd. 

" Gie quarters to yon men for me ! " 
But wicked Claver'se swore an oath, 

His Cornet's death revenged sud be. 



152 THE BATTLE OF KILLIECRANKIE. 

" hold your band,*' then ^Monmouth cry'd, 
" If onything j'ou'll do for me ; 

Hold up your hand, you cursed Graeme, 
Else a rebel to our king ye'U be." 

Then wicked Claver'se turn'd about, 

I wot an angry man was he ; 
And he has lifted up his hat, 

And cry'd, " God bless his Majesty ! '* 

Than he's awa' to London town, 
Aye e'en as fast as he can dree ; 

Fause witnesses he has wi' him ta'en, 

And ta'en Monmouth's head frae his body. 

Alang the brae, beyond the brig, 

Mony brave man lies cauld and still ; 

But lang we'll mind, and sair we'll rue, 
The bloody battle of Bothwell Hill. 



THE BAITLE OF KILLIECRANKH.. 

This battle was fought on the evening of tl e 27th 
of July, 1689, a little to the north of the pass -f Kib 
liecrankie, in the Highlands of Perthshire, between 
King William's army under General Mackay, and a 
body of Highlanders under the renowned Claverhouse, 



THE BATTLE OF KILLTECRANKIE. 155! 

the bravest and most faithful adherent of the house 
of Stuart. Mackay's troops, which were partly Dutch 
and partly English, amounted to 4,500 foot and two 
companies of horse. The Highlanders were not much 
more than half as numerous. They consisted of the 
followers of Maclean, Macdonald of Sky, Clanronald, 
Sir Evan Cameron of Lochiel, and others, with a few 
Irish. The left wing of Mackay's army was almost 
instantly routed by a furious charge of the Macleans. 
The right wing stood their ground manfully, and even 
repulsed the assault of the Macdonalds, but being 
taken in flank by the Camerons and a part of the 
Macleans, they were forced to retire and suffered great 
loss. While directing the oblique movement of the 
Camerons, Claverhouse received a mortal wound 
under the arm, and with him fell the cause of King 
James. 

This ballad, which is taken from Herd's Scottish 
Songs, i. 163, was printed as a broadside near the 
time of the battle. The author is unknown. There 
was an old song called Killiecrankie, which, with some 
alterations, was inserted in Johnson's Museum (p. 302). 
It is also found in Hogg's Jacobite Relics, i. 32, with 
an additional stanza. A contemporary Latin ballad 
on the same event by Herbert Kennedy, a professor 
in the University of Edinburgh, is given in the Mur 
seum, and may be seen in our Appendix. 



Clavers and his Highlandmen 
Came down upo' the raw, man, 

Who being stout, gave mony a clout 
The lads beo;an to claw then- 



L54 THE BATTLE OF KILLIECRANKIE. 

With sword and terge into their hand, 
TVi which they were nae slaw, man, 

Wi mony a fearful heavy sigh. 
The lads began to claw then. 

O'er bush, o'er bank, o'er ditch, o'er stank, 

She flang amang them a', man ; 
The butter-box got mony knocks, 

Their riggings paid for a' then. 
They got their paiks, wi sudden straiks, 

Which to their grief they saw, man ; 
Wi clinkum clankum o'er their crowns, 

The lads began to fa' then. 

Hur^skipt about, hur leapt about, 

And flang amang them a', man ; 
The English blades got broken heads. 

Their crowns were cleav'd in twa then. 
The durk and door made their last hour. 

And prov'd their final fa', man ; 
They thought the devil had been there, 

That play'd them sic a paw then. 



1 The Highlanders have only one prononn, and as it hap* 
pens to resemble the English Aer, it has caused the Low- 
landers to have a general impression that they mistake the 
feminine for the masculine gender. It has even become a 
Bort of nickname for them, as in the present case, and in a 
Bubsequent verse, where it is extended to her-nain-seU 
Chambers, Scottish Songs, p. 48, 



THE BATTLE OF KILLIECRANKIE. 155 

The Solemn League and Covenant 

Came whigging up the hills, man ; 
Thought Highland trews durst not refuse 

For to subscribe their bills then. 
In "Willie's name, they thought nae ane 

Durst stop their course at a', man, 
But hur-nane-sell, wi mony a knock, 

Cry'd, " Furich-Whigs awa'," man. 

Sir Evan Du, and his men true, 

Came linking up the brink, man ; 
The Hogan Dutch they feared such. 

They bred a horrid stink then. 
The true Maclean and his fierce men 

Came in amang them a' man ; 
Nane durst withstand his heavy hand, 

All fled and ran awa' then. 

OTiL on a ri, Oh' on a ri. 

Why should she lose King Shames, man ? 
Oh' rig in di, Oh' rig in di, 

She shall break a' her l)anes then ; 
With furichinish, an' stay a while, 

And speak a word or twa, man, 
She's gi' a straike, out o'er the neck, 

Before ye win awa' then. 

O fy for shame, ye're three for ane, 

Hur-nane-sell's won the day, man ; 
King Shames' red-coats should be hung up, 



156 THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR. 

Because they ran awa* then. 
Had bent their brows, like Highland trows, 

And made as lang a stay, man, 
They'd sav'd their king, that sacred thing, 

And Willie'd ran awa' then. 



THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR. 

Fought on the 13th of November, 1715, between 
the Duke of Argyle, general of the forces of King 
George the First, and the Earl of Mar, for the Cheva- 
lier de St. George. The right wing of both armies, 
led by the respective commanders, was successful, and 
the left wing of both was routed. Hence the victory 
was claimed by both sides. The Chevalier's army 
was much the larger of the two, and all the advan- 
tages of the contest remained with the other party. 

This ballad is printed in Herd's Scottish Songs, 
i. 170, and in many subsequent collections. It is 
ascribed by Burns to the " Rev. Murdoch M'Lellan, 
'minister of Crathie, Dee-side." Our copy is taken 
from Hogg's JacoUle Relics, ii. 1, where the stanzas 
in brackets appear for the first time. The notes are 
from Chambers's Scottish Songs, p. 408. 

There are several other ballads upon this battle : 
Up and war them a% Willie, Johnson's Museum, p. 195, 
and (different) Herd's Scottish Songs, ii. 234: : From 
Bogie Side, or, The Marquis's Raide, a false and scur- 
rilous party song, Hogg's Jacobite Relics, ii. 13: A 



THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR. 157 

Dialogue heticeen Will Lidc-Ladle and Tom Clean- 
Cogue, &c., written by tlie Rev. John Barclay of 
Edinburgh, many years after the event : and The Bat- 
tle of Sherramoor^ altered and abridged by Bums 
from this last, for Johnson's Museum, (p. 290.) See 
Appendix. 



There's some say that we wan, and some saj 
that they wan, 
And some say that nane wan at a', man ; 
But one thing I'm sure, that at iSherra-muir 

A battle there was that I saw, man. 
And ive ran, and they ran, and they ran, and we 
ran, 
But Florence^ran fastest of a\ man. 

Argyle and Belhaven,- not frighted like Leven, 

Which Rothes and Haddington saw, man ; 
For they all, with Wightman, advanc'd on the 
right, man, 
While others took flight, being raw, man. 
And we ran, 8^c. 

Lord Roxburgh^ was there, in order to share 
With Douglas, who stood not in awe, man ; 

1 Florence was the Marqnis of Huntly's horse. Hogg. 

2 Lord Belhaven, the Earl of Leven, and the Earls of 
Rothes and Haddington, who all bore arms as volunteers ip 
the royal army. Major-General Joseph Wightman, who com' 
raanded the centre of the royal army. 

8 John, fifth Duke of Roxburgh, a loyal volunteer. 



158 THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR. 

Volunteerly to ramble with Lord Loudon 
Campbell, 
Brave Hay did suffer for a', man. 
And we ran, S^.c. 

Sir John Schaw/that great knight, with broad 
sword most bright, 
On horseback he briskly did charge, man ; 
A hero that's bold, none could him withhold. 
He stoutly encounter'd the targemen. 
And we ran, S^c. 

For the cowardly Whittam,^ for fear they should 
cut him. 
Seeing glittering broad swords with a pa', man, 
And that in such thrang, made Baird edicang, 
And from the brave clans ran awa, man. 
And we ran, S^c. 

[The great Colonel Dow gade foremost, I trow, 
When Whittam's dragoons ran awa, man ; 

'Archibald, Duke of Douglas, who commanded a body of his 
vassals in the royal army. Hugh Campbell, third Earl of 
Loudoun, of the royal army. The Earl of Hay, brothei 
to the Duke of Argyle. He came up to the field only a 
few hours before the battle, and had the misfortune to be 
wounded. 

1 Sir John Shaw of Greenock, an officer in the troop of 
volunteers, noted for his keen Whiggish spirit. 

2 Major-General Whitham, who commanded the left wing 
pf the King's armv. 



THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MTJIR. 159 

Except Sandy Baird, and Naughtan the laii'd, 
Their horse shaw'd their heels to them a', man. 
Atid we ran, <^r.] 

Brave Mar and Panmure^ were firm, I am sure : 

The latter was kidnapt awa, man ; 
With brisk men about, brave Harry retook 

His brother, and laugh'd at them a', man. 
And we ran. S^c. 

Brave Marshall," and Lithgow, and Glengary's 
pith, too. 
Assisted by brave Loggia, man, 
And Gordons the bright, so boldly did fight, 
That the redcoats took flight and awa, man. 
Atid we ran, S^c. 

Strathmore^andClanronald cried still, "Advance, 
Donald,'' 
Till both of these heroes did fa', man ; 
For there was such hashing, and broad swords 
a°clashing. 
Brave Forfar himsel got a claw, man. 
And we ran, S^c. 

1 James, Earl of Panmure. The Honourable Harrv ^lauk 
of Kellie, brother to the foregoing, whom he recaptured after 
the engagement. 

2 The Earls of Marischal and Linlithgow. The Chief of 
Glengary. Thomas Drummond of Logie Almond. 

3 The Earl of Strathmore, killed in the battle. The Chief 
of Clanranald. The Earl of Forfar — on the King's side- 
wounded in the engagement. 



160 THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR. 

Lord Pertlj ^ stood the storm, Seaforth but luke- 
warm, 
Kilsyth, and Strathallan not slaw, man ; 
And Hamilton pled the men were not bred, 
For he had no fancy to fa', man. 
And we ran, Sfc. 

Brave gen'rousSoutheskj^Tullibardin was brisk, 
Whose father indeed would not draw, man. 

Into the same yoke, which serv'd for a cloak, 

To keep the estate 'twixt them twa, man. 

A7id we ran, ^c. 

Lord Rollo^ not fear'd, Kintore and his beard, 

Pitshgo and Ogilvie, a', man. 
And brothers Balflours they stood the first 
show'rs, 
Clackmannan and Burleigh did claw, man. 
And we ran, S^c. 

1 James, Lord Drummond, eldest son of the Earl of Perth, 
was Lieutenant-general of horse under Mar, and behaved 
with great gallantry. William Mackenzie, fifth Earl of Sea- 
forth. The Viscount Kilsyth. The Viscount Strathallan. 
Lieutenant-general George Hamilton, commanding under the 
Earl of I\Iar. 

8 James, fifth Earl of Southesk. The Marquis of Tulli- 
bardine, eldest son of the Duke of Athole. 

8 Lord Rollo. The Earl of Kintore. Lord Pitsligo. Lord 
Ogilvie, SOB of the Earl of Airly. Bruce, Laird of Clack- 
mannan — the husband, I believe, of the old lady who knight- 
ed Robert Burns with the sword of Bruce, at Clackmannan 
Tower. Lord Burleigh. 



THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR. 161 

But Cleppan-^ fought pretty, and Strowan the witty, 

A poet that pleases us a', man ; 
For mine is but rhyme in respect of what's fine, 

Or what he is able to draw, man. 
And we ran, Sfc. 

For Huntly and Sinclair,^ they both play'd the 
tinkler, 
With consciences black as a craw, man ; 
Some Angus and Fife men, they ran for their 
life, man, 
And ne'er a Lot's wife there at a', man. 
And we ran, ^c. 

'Then Laurie the traitor, who betray'd his master, 
His king, and his country, an' a', man, 

Pretending Mar mjght give orders to fight. 
To the right of the army awa, man. 
And we ran, S^c. 

Then Laurie, for fear of what he might hear, 
Took Drummond's best horse, and awa, man : 

'Stead of going to Perth, he crossed the Firth, 
Alongst Stirling bridge, and awa, man. 
And we ran, ^c. 

1 Major "William Clephane. Alexander Robertson of 
Struan, chief of the Robertsons. 

2 Alexander, Marquis of Huntlr, afterwards Duke of 
Gordon. The Ma-^ter of Sinclair. 

3 These next four stanzas seem to refer to a circumstance 
VOL. VIL 11 



162 THE BATTLE OP SHERIFF-MUIR. 

To London he press'd, and there he profess'd 
That he behav'd best o' them a', man, 

And so, without strife, got settled for life, 
A hundred a-jear to his fa', man. 
And we rem, 8^c. 

In Borrowstounness he resides with disgrace, 
Till his neck stand in need of a thraw, man ; 

And then in a tether he'll swing from a ladder, 
And go off the stage with a pa', man. 
And we ran, Sfc. 

Rob Roy^ there stood watch on a hill, for to catch 

The booty, for ought that I saw, man ; 
For he ne'er advanc'd from the place he was 
stanc'd, 
Till no more was to do there at a', man. 
And we ran, Sfc, 

So we all took the flight, and Moubray the wright, 
And Lethem the smith was a braw man, 

For he took a fit of the gout, w^iich was wut, 
By judging it time to withdraw, man. 
And we ran, S^c. 

reported at the time; namely, that a person had left the Duke 
of Argyle's ami}', and joined the Earl of liar's, before the 
battle, intending to act as a spy; and that, being employed 
by Mar to inform the left wing that the right was victorious, 
he gave a contrary statement, and, after seeing them retire 
accordingly, went ba,ck again to the roj'al army. 

1 The celebrated Rob Roy. This redoubted hero was pre- 
vented, by mixed motives, from joining either party; he 



THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR. 163 

And trumpet Maclean, whose breeks were not clean, 
Through misfortune he happen'd to fa', man ; 

By saving his neck, his trumpet did break, 
Ajid came off without music at a', man. 
A7id we ran, SfC. 

So there such a race was as ne'er in that place was, 

And as little chace was at a', man ; 
From each other they run without touk of drum. 

They did not make use of a paw, man. 
And we ran, S^c, 

[Whether we ran, or they ran, or we wan, or they 
wan. 
Or if there was winning at a', man, 
There no man can tell, save our brave genarell,^ 
Who first began running of a', man. 
And we ran, S^c. 

Wi' the Earl o' Seaforth, and the Cock o' the 
North"; 
But Florence ran fastest of a', man. 
Save the laird o' Phinaven, who sware to be even 
W any general or peer o' them a', man.] 
And we ran, ^c. 

could not fight against the Earl of ]Mar, consistent with his 
conscience, nor could he oppose the Duke of Argyle, withe ut 
forfeiting the protection of a powerful friend. 

1 This point is made at the expense of a contradiction 
See p 159. 

2 T]i& Coclc of the North is an honorary popular title of 
the Duke of Gordon. Carnegy o^ Finhaven. 



1C4 LORD DERWENTWATEE. 



LORD DERWENTWATER. 

James Radcliff, Earl of Derwentwater, fell 
into the hands of the "Whigs at the surrender of Pret)- 
ton, on the very day of the battle of SherifT-Muir, 
and suffered death in February, 1716, for his partici- 
pation in the rebellion. Smollet has described him 
as an amiable youth, — brave, open, generous, hospi- 
table, and humane. " His fate drew tears from the 
spectators, and was a great misfortune to the country 
in which he lived. He gave bread to multitudes of 
people whom he employed on his estate ; — the poor, 
the widow, and the orphan rejoiced in his bounty." 
(^History of Englaiid, quoted by Cromek.) We are 
told that the aurora borealis was remarkably vivid 
on the night of the earl's execution, and that thia 
phenomenon is consequently still known in the north 
by the name of " Lord Derwentwater's Lights." 

Although this ballad is said to have been extremely 
popular in the North of England for a long time after 
the event which gave rise to it, no good copy has as 
yet been recovered. The following was obtained by 
Motherwell {Minstrels?/, p. 349) from the recitation 
of an old woman. Another copy, also from recitation 
but " restored to poetical propriety," is given in the 
Gentleman's Magazine, for June, 1825 (p. 489), and 



LORD DERWENTWATER. 165 

fragments of a third in Notes and Querie!^, vol. xii. 
p. 492. Two spurious ballads on the death of Lord 
Derwentwater have been sometimes received as genu- 
ine: one by Allan Cunningham, first published in 
Cromek's Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 129, an- 
other (Lord Deriventwater^s Goodnight) by Surtees, 
printed in Hoggs Jacobite Relics, ii. 31. Still another 
modern imitation is Young RatcUffe, in Sheldon's 
Minstrelsy of the English Border, p. 401. 

There is a ballad on the disgraceful capitulation of 
Preston in Hogg's Jacobite Relics, ii. 102, also, 'iVor- 
thumberland Garland, p. 85, beginning " Mackintosh 
was a soldier brave." 

Our King has wrote a long letter, 

And sealed it ower with gold ; 
He sent it to my lord Dunwaters. 

To read it if be could. 

V 

He has not sent it with a boy, 

Nor with any Scots lord ; 
But he's sent it with the noblest knight 

E'er Scotland could afford. 

The very first line that my lord did read, 

He gave a smirkling smile ; 
Before he had the half of it read, 

The tears from his eyes did fall. 

"* Come saddle to me my horse," he said, 
" Come saddle to me with speed ; 



166 LORD DER WENT WATER. 

For I must away to fair London town, 
For to me there was ne'er more need." 

Out and spoke his lady gay, 

In childbed where she lay : 
"I would have you make your will, my lord 
Dun waters, 

Before you go away." 

" I leave to you, my eldest son, 

My houses and my land ; 
I leave to you, my youngest son. 

Ten thousand pounds in hand. 

"I leave to you, my lady gay, — 

You are my wedded wife, — 
I leave to you, the third of my estat-e, 

That'll keep you in a lady's life." 

They had not rode a mile but one, 

Till his horse fell owre a stane : 
" It's a warning good enough," my lord Dunwatera 
said, 

" Alive I'll ne'er come hame." 

When they came to fair London town. 

Into the courtiers' hall. 
The lords and knights of fair London town 

Did him a traitor call. 



THE BATTLE OP TRANENT-MUIR. 167 

"A traitor ! a traitor ! '' says my lord, 

" A traitor ! how can that be ? 
An it be nae for the keeping five thousand men, 

To fight for King Jamie. 

** all you lords and knights in fair London town, 

Come out and see me die ; 
O all you lords and knights in fair London towOj 

Be kind to my ladie. 

" There's fifty pounds in my right pocket, 

Divide it to the poor ; 
There's other fifty in my left pocket. 

Divide it from door to door." 



THE BATTLE OF TRANENT-MUIR, OR OP 
PRESTON-PANS. 

Herd's Scottish Songs, i. 166: Kitson's Scotisk Songs, ii. 76. 

This ballad is the work of Adam Skirving, a clever 
a *d opulent farmer, father of Archibald Skirvdng, the 
portrait painter. It was printed shortly after the 
cattle as a broadside, and next appeared in The 
Charmer, vol. ii. p. 349, Edinb. 1751. Neither of 
those editions contains the eleventh stanza. The 
foot-notes commonly attached to the subsequent re- 



168 THE BATTLE OF TRANENT-MUIR, 

prints are found in The Cliarmer. (Laing in John- 
son's Museum, iv. 189*.) 

To Skirving is also attributed with great probability 
the excellent satirical song of Johnnie Cope, or Cope 
are you leaking yet. The original words are in Rit- 
son, Scolish Songs, ii. 84 : another set at p. 82 : a 
Sbird, with alterations and additions by Burns, in 
ijohnson's Museum, p. 242. Allan Cunningham once 
ti«ard a peasant boast that he could sing Johnnie Cope 
with all its nineteen variations. See Appendix. 

The battle took place on the 2 2d of September, 
1745, between the villages of Tranent and Preston- 
pans, a few miles from Edinburgh. The king's lieu- 
tenant-general. Sir John Cope, was disgracefully de- 
feated by the Highlanders under Charles EdAvard, 
and nearly all his army killed or taken. The details 
of the conflict are vividly described in the 46th and 
4 7th chapters of Waverley. 



The Chevalier, being void of fear, 

Did march up Birsle brae, man, 
And thro' Tranent, e'er he did stent, 

As fast as he could gae, man : 
While General Cope did taunt and mock, 

Wi' mony a loud huzza, man ; 
But e'er next morn proclaim'd the cock. 

We heard another craw, man. 

The brave Lochiel, as I heard tell. 

Led Camerons on in clouds, man ; 
The morninf; fair, and clear the air, 



OR OF PRESTON-PANS. 169 

They loosed with devilish thuds, man. 
Down guns they threw, and swords they drew 

And soon did chace them afF, man ; 
On Seaton- Crafts they buft their chafts, 

And gart them rin like daft, man. 

The bluff dragoons swore blood and *oons, 

They'd make the rebels run, man ; 
And yet they flee when them they see, 

And winna fire a gun, man : 
They turn'd their back, the foot they brake, 

Such terror seiz'd them a', man ; 
Some wet their cheeks, some fyl'd their breeks, 

And some for fear did fa', man. 

The volunteers prick'd up their ears, 

And vow gin they were crouse, man ; 
But when the bairns saw't turn to earnest, 

They were not worth a louse man. 
Maist feck gade hame ; O fy for shame ! 

They'd better stay'd awa', man, 
Than wi' cockade to make parade, 

And do nae good at a', man. 

Menteith the great,^when hersell sli — , 
Un' wares did ding him o'er man : 

^ The minister of Longformacns, a volunteer; who, hap- 
pening to come, the night before the battle, upon a High- 
lander easing nature at Preston, threw him over, and carried 
his gun as a trophy to Cope's camp. 



170 THE BATTLE OF TRANENT-MUIR, 

Yet wad nae stand to bear a hand, 

But aff fou fast did scour, man ; 
O'er Soutra hill, e'er he stood still, 

Before he tasted meat, man : 
Troth he may brag of his swift nag, 

That bare him aif sae fleet, man. 

And Simpson^ keen, to clear the een 

Of rebels far in wrang, man, 
Did never strive wi' pistols five, 

But gallop'd with the thrang, man: 
He turn'd his back, and in a crack 

"Was cleanly out of sight man ; 
And thought it best ; it was nae jest 

W Highlanders to fight, man. 

'Mangst a' the gang nane bade the bang 

But twa, and ane was tane, man ; 
For Campbell rade, but Myrie^ staid, 

And sair he paid the kain, man ; 
Fell skelps he got, was war than shot, 

Frae the sharp-edg'd claymore, man ; 
Frae many a spout came running out 

His reeking-het red gore, man. 

1 Another volunteer Presbyterian minister, who said he 
w.-)uld convince the rebels of their error by the dint of his 
pistols; having, for that purpose, two in his pockets, two in 
his holsters', and one in his belt. 

2 Mr. Myrie was a student of physic, from Jamaica; he 
entered as a volunteer in Cope's army, and was miserably 
mangled by the broadswords. 



OR OF PRESTON-PANS. 171 

But Gardner brave did still oeliave 

Like to a hero bright, man ; 
His courage true, like him were few 

That still despised flight, man ; 
For king and laws, and country's cause, 

In honour's bed he lay, man ; 
His life, but not his courage, fled. 

While he had breath to draw, man. 

And Major Bowie, that worthy soul, 

Was brought down to the ground, man ; 
His horse being shot, it was his lot 

For to get mony a wound, man : 
Lieutenant Smith, -^ of Irish birth, 

Frae whom he call'd for aid, man, 
Being full of dread, lap o'er his head, 

And wadna be gainsaid, man. 

He made sic haste, sae spur'd his beast, 
'Twas little there he saw, man ; 



1 Liutenant Smith, who left Major Bowie when Iving 
on the field of battle, and unable to move with his wound, 
was of Irish extraction. It is reported that after the publica- 
tion of the ballad, he sent Mr. Skirving a challenge t > meet 
him at Haddington, and answer for his conduct in trea* ing 
him with such opprobrium. " Gang awa back," said Mr. 
Skirving to the messenger, " and tell Mr. Smith, 1 have nae 
leisure to gae to Haddington, but if he likes to come here, I'U 
tak a look o' him, and if I think I can fecht him, I'll fecht 
him, and if no — I'll just do as he did at Preston— I'll rji; 
awa\" Stexhouse. 



172 THE BATTLE OF TRANENT-MUIB, 

To Berwick rade, and safely said, 
The Scots were rebels a', man. 

But let that end, for well 'tis kend 
His use and wont to lie, man ; 

The Teague is naught, he never faught, 
When he had room to flee, man. 

And Caddell drest, amaiig the rest, 

With gun and good claymore, man. 
On gelding grey he rode that way, 

With pistols set before, man ; 
The cause was good, he'd spend his blood, 

Before that he would yield, man ; 
But the night before, he left the cor, 

And never fac'd the field, man. 

But gallant Roger, like a soger. 

Stood and bravely fought, man ; 
I'm wae to tell, at last he fell. 

But mae down wi' him brought, man 
At point of death, wi' his last breath, 

(Some standing round in ring, man,) 
On's back lying flat, lie wav'd his hat. 

And cry'd, God save the King, man. 

Some Highland rogues, like hungry dogs, 

Neglecting to pursue, man, 
About they fac'd, and in great haste 

Upon thg booty flew, man ; 
And they, as gain for all their pain. 



OR OF PRESTON-PANS. 173 

Are deck'd wi' spoils of war, man •, 
Fu' bald can tell how hernainsell 
Was ne'er sae pra before, man. 

At the thorn-tree, which you may see 

Bewest the meadow-mill, man, 
There mony slain lay on the plain. 

The clans pursuing still, man. 
Sick unco' hacks, and deadly whacks, 

I never saw the like, man ; 
Lost hands and heads cost them their deads, 

That fell near Preston-dyke, man. 

That afternoon, wnen a was aone, 

I gaed to see the fray, man ; 
But had I wist what after past, 

I'd better staid away, man : 
On Seaton sands, wi' nimble hands, 

They pick'd my pockets bare, man; 
But I wish ne'er to drie sick fear, 

For a' the sum and mair, man. 



APPENDIX. 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN. 177 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN. See p. 5. 

In the versions of this ballad given in 1:he body of 
this work, the Earl of Douglas is represented as falling 
by the hand of Harry Percy. In the ballad which 
follows, taken from Herd's iScottish Songs, i. 211, his 
death is ascribed to the revenge of an offended ser- 
vant. Though there is not the slightest reason to 
give credence to this story, it has a certain foun- 
dation in tradition. Hume of Godscroft writes 
" there are that say, that he [Douglas] was not 
slain by the enemy, but by one of his own men, a 
groom of his chamber, whom he had struck the day 
before with a truncheon, in ordering of the battle, 
because he saw him make somewhat slowly to. And 
they name this man John Bickerton of Luf!hess, who 
left a part of his armour behind unfastened, and when 
he was in the greatest conflict, this servant of his 
came behind his back, and slew him thereat." Win- 
town says that the Rarl was so intent on marshalling 
his forces, and so eager to be at the foe, that he neg- 
lected to arm himself carefully. — Scott's Minstrelsy^ 
I. 350. 

It fell, and about the Lammas time, 
AVlien husbandmen do win their hay^ 

Earl Douglas is to the English woods, 
And a' with him to fetch a prey. 
VOL. VIL 12 



178 THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN. 

He has chosen the Lindsays light, 
With them the gallant Gordons gay, 

And the Earl of Fyfe, withouten strife, 
And Sir Hugh Montgomery upon a grey. 

They hae taken Northumberland, 
And sae hae they the North-shire, 

And the Otter-dale, they burnt it hale, 
And set it a' into the fire. 

Out then spack a bonny boy,i 

That serv'd ane o' Earl Douglas kin, 

" Methinks 1 see an English host, 
A-eoming branken us upon." 

" If this be true, my little boy, 

An It be troth that thou tells me. 
The bra west bower in Otterburn 

This day shafM be th)- morning fee. 

" But if it be false, my little boy. 
But and a lie that thou tells me, 

1 At this place a recited copy, quoted by Finlay {Scotiish 
Ballads, I. p. xviil. ), has the following stanzas : — 

Then out an spak a little wee boy, 

And he was near o' Percy's kin, 
" Methinks I see the English host, 

A-coming branking iis upon : 

Wi' nine waggons scaling wide, 

And seven banners bearing high ; 
It wad do any living gude 

To see their bonny colours fly. 



THE BATTLE OF OTTER BURN. 179 

On the highest tree that's in Otterburn 
With my awin hands I'll hing thee hie.** 

The boy's taen out his little penknife, 
That hanget low down by his gare, 

And he gae Earl Douglas a deadly wound, 
Alas, a deep wound and a sare 1 

Earl Douglas said to Sir Hugh Montgomery, 
"• Tack thou the vanguard o' the three, 

And bury me at yon bracken bush, 
That stands upon yon lilly lee." 

Ilien Percy and Montgomery met, 

And weel 1 wat they war na fain ; 
They swapped swords, and they twa swat, 

And ay the blood ran down between. 

" O yield thee, yield thee, Percy," he said, 
" Or else 1 vow I'll lay thee low ; ' 

" Whom to shall I yield," said Earl Percy, 
" Now that I see it maun be so ? " 

" yield thee to yon braken bush, 

That grows upon yon lilly lee ; 
1 For there liesaneth yon braken bush 

What aft has conquer'd mae than thee.** 

" I winna }neld to a braken bush. 

Nor yet will I unto a brier; 
But I wald yield to Earl Douglas, 

Or Sir Hugh Montgomery, if he was here.*' 

' Supplied by JIotherweM from a recited copy 



180 THE BATTLE OF HAELAW. 

As soon as lie knew it was Montgomery, 
He stuck his sword's point in tlie ground, 

And Sir Hugh Montgomery was a courteous knight. 
And he quickly caught him by the hand. 

This deed was done at Otterburn, 

About the breaking o' the day ; 
Earl Douglas was buried at the braken bush, 

And Percy led captive away. 



THE BATTLE OF HARLAW. 

From Ramsay's Evergreen, \. 78. 

This battle took place at Harlaw, near Aberdeen, 
on the 24th of July, 1411. The contlict was occa- 
eioned by a dispute concerning the succession to the 
earldom of Ross, between Donald, Lord of the Isles, 
and the son of the Regent, Robert, Duke of Albany, 
whose claim was supported by Alexander Stewart, 
Earl of JNIar. The consequences of this battle were 
of the highest importance, inasmuch as the wild Celts 
of the Highlands and Islands received such a check 
that they never again combined for the conquest of 
the civilized parts of Scotland. 

The Battle of Ilarlaw is one of the old ballacfe 
whose titles occur in the CompUvjnt of Scotland 
(1548). A bag-pipe tune of that name is mentioned 
j\ Drummond of HawthorndenV mock-heroic poein, 
the Polemo Muhlinla : 

" Interea ante alios dux Piper Laius iieros, 
Prfecedens, magniimque gerens curabuvdine pypam 
Incipit Harlai cunctis sonare Batelhim." 



THK BATTLK OF HAT? LAW. 181 

Mr. Laing, in his Eay^Iy Metrical Tales Cp. xlv.) 
speaks of an edition printed in the year 1668 as being 
"in the curious library of old Robert INIyln." No 
copy is now known to exist of a date anterior to that 
which was published in Ramsay's -Kvergrecn. Of the 
age of this copy the most opposite opiiiions have been 
maintained, some regarding the ballad as contem- 
porary with the event, and others insinuating that 
Ramsay, or one of his friends, is chargeable with the 
authorship. This last notion has no other ground 
than the freedom which Ramsay notoriously took 
with his texts, and that iVeedom has very likely been 
exercised in the present case. We shall, perhaps, 
be going quite as far as is prudent, if we acknowledge 
that this may be one of " the Scots poems wrote by 
the ingenious before 1 600." Most readers will afrree 
with Lord Hailes that the language is as recent as 
the days of Queen Mary, or of James the Sixth. 
Sibbald, in his Chronicle of Scotfish Poefry, iii. 288, 
has stated other objections to receiving this ballad for 
ancient, which seem, however, to be satisfactorily 
answered by Finlay, Scottish Ballads, i. 160. 

The copy of this ballad in The Thistle of Scotland, 
p. 75, is only Ramsay's, imperfectly remembered, or, 
what is quite as probable, here and there altered 
according to the taste of the illiterate editor. At 
page 92 of the same book, three stanzas are given of 
a burlesque song on this battle. A traditional ballad, 
■vv-ently recovered, is inserted at the end of this 
rolume. 

Frae Dunidier as I cam throuch, 
Doun bv the hill of Banochie, 



l82 THE BATTLE OP HARLAW. 

A-llaugst the lands of Garioch, 
Grit pitie was to heir and se 
The noys and dulesum hermonlc, 

That evir that dreiry day did daw, 
Cryand the corynoch on hie, 

Alas ! alas ! for the Harlaw. 

I marvllt quhat the matter meint. 

All folks war in a fiery-fairy ; 
I wist nocht quha was fae or freind, 

Zit quietly I did me carrie. 

But sen the days of auld King Hairy, 
Sic slauchter was not hard nor sene. 

And thair I had nae tyme to tairy, 
For bissiness in Aberdene. 

Thus as I walkit on the way, 

To Inverury as I went, 
I met a man and bad him stay, 

Requeisting him to mak me quaint 

Of the beginning and the event. 
That happenit thair at the Harlaw : 

Then he entreited me tak tent. 
And he the truth ^ould to me schaw. 

Grit Donald of the Yles did claim 

Unto the lands of Ross sum richt, 
And to the governour he came, 

Them for to haif, gif that he micht ; 

Quha saw his interest was but slicht, 
And thairfore answerit with disdain ; 

He hastit hame baith day and nicht, 
And sent nae bodward back again. 



THE BATTLE OF HARLAW. 183 

But Donald richt Impatient 

Of that answer Duke Robert gaif, 
He vowed to God Omnipotent, 

All the hale lands of Ross to haif, 

Or ells be graithed in his graif : 
He wald not quat his richt for nocht, 

Nor be abuslt lyk a slaif ; 
That bargin sould be deirly bocht. 

Then haistylie he did command, 

That all his weir-men should convene, 

Hk an well haniisit frae hand, 

To meit and heir quhat he did mein : 
, He waxit wrath, and vowit tein, 

Swelrand he wald surpryse the Xorth, 
Subdew the brugh of Aberdene, 

Mearns, Angus, and all Fyfe to Forth. 

Thus with the weir-men of the Yles, 

Quha war ay at his bidding bown. 
With money maid, with forss and wyls, 

Richi far and neir, baith up and doun, 

Throw mount and muir, frae town to town, 
AUangst the lands of Ross he roars, 

And all obey'd at his bandown, 
Evin frae the North to Suthren shears. 

Then all the countrie men did zield ; 

For nae resistans durst they mak, 
Nor offer battill in the feild. 

Be forss of arms to beir him bak. 

Syne they resolvit all and spak, 
That best it was for thair behoif. 



184 THE BATTLE OF HARLAAY. 

They sould him for thair chiftaia tak, 
Believing weil he did them luve. 

Then he a proclamation maid, 

All men to meet at Inverness, 
Throw Murray land to mak a raid, 

Frae Arthursyre unto Spey-ness. 

And further mair, he sent express, 
To schaw his collours and ensenzie, 

To all and sindry, mair and less, 
Throc'hout the bounds of Byne and Euzie. 

And then throw fair Straithbogie land 

His purpose was for to pursew, 
And quhasoevir durst gaiustand, 

That race they should full sairly rew. 

Then he bad all his men be trew, 
And him defend by forss and slicht, 

And promist them rewardis anew, 
And mak them men of mekle micht. 

Without resistans, as he said. 

Throw all these parts he stoutly past, 
Quhair sum war wae, and sum war glaid. 

But Garioch was all agast. 

Throw all these feilds he sped him fast. 
For sic a sicht was never sene ; 

And then, forsuith, he langd at last 
To so the brucli of Aberdene. 

To hinder this prowcl enterprise, 

I'he stout and michty Erie of Marr 
With all his men in arms did ryse. 



THE BATTLE OF HARLAW. 185 

Even frae Curgarf to Craigyvar : 
And down the syde of Don richt far, 

Angus and Mearns did all convene 
To feclit, or Donald came sae nar 

The ryall bruch of Aberdene. 

And thus the martial Erie of Marr 

Marcht with his men in richt array ; 
Befoir the enemie was aware, 

His banner bauldly did display. 

For weil enewch they kend the way, 
Ana all their semblance weil they saw : 

Without all dangir, or delay, 
Come haistily to the Harlaw. 

With him the braif Lord Ogilvy, 

Of Angus sheriff principall, 
The constabill of gude Dunde, 

The vanguard led before them all. 

Suppose in number they war small, 
Thay first richt bauldlie did pursew, 

A^d maid thair faes befor them fall, 
Quha then that race did sairly rew. 

And then the worthy Lord Salton, 

The strong undoubted Laird of Drum, 
The stalwart Laird of Lawristone, 

With ilk thair forces, all and sum. 

Panmuir with all his men did cum, 
The provost of braif Aberdene, 

AYith trumpets and with tuick of drum, 
Came schortly in thair armour schene. 



186 TUE BATTLE OF HARLAW. 

These with the Earle of Marr came on, 
In the relr-ward richt orderlie, 

Thair enemies to sett upon ; 
In awfull manner hardily, 
Togither vowit to live and die, 

Since they had marchit mony myhs, 
For to suppress the tyrannic 

Of douted Donald of the Yles. 

But he in number ten to ane, 

Richt subtile alang did ryde, 
With Malcomtosch and fell Maclean, 

With all thair power at thair syde ; 

Presumeand on thair strenth and pr} dc, 
Without all feir or ony aw, 

Richt bauldie battill did abyde. 
Hard by the town of fair Harlaw. 

The armies met, the trumpet sounds, 

The dandring drums alloud did touk, 
Baith armies byding on the bounds. 

Till ane of them the feild sould bruik. 

Nae help was thalrfor, nane wald jouk, 
Ferss was the fecht on ilka syde, 

And on the ground lay mony a bouk 
Of them that thair did battill byd. 

With doutsum victorle they dealt. 
The bludy battil lastit lang ; 

Each man his nibours forss thair felt, 
The weakest aft-tymes gat the wrang : 
Thair was nae mo wis thair them amang, 

Naithing was hard but heavy knocks, 



THE BATTLE OF HARLAW. 187 

That eccbo mad a dulefull sang, 
Thairto resounding frae the rocks. 

But Donalds men at last gaif back, 

For they war all out of array : 
The Earl of Marris men throw them brak, 

Pursewing shairply in thair way, 
Thair enemys to tak or slay, 
Be dynt of forss to gar them yield ; 

Quha war richt blyth to win away, 
And sae for feirdness tint the feild. 

Then Donald fled, and that full fast. 

To mountains hich for all his micht ; 
For he and his war all agast. 

And ran till they war out of sicht ; 

And sae of Ross he lost his richt, 
Thocht mony men with hem he brocht ; 

Towards the Yles fled day and nicht, 
And all he wan was deirlie bocht. 

This is (quod he) the richt report 

Of all that I did heir and knaw ; 
Thocht my discourse be sumthing schort, 

Tak this to be a richt suthe saw : 

Contrairie God and the kings law, 
Thair was spilt mekle Christian blude, 

Into the battil of Harlaw : 
This is the sum, sae I conclude. 

But zit a bonny quhyle abyde. 

And I sail mak thee cleirly ken 
Quhat slauchter was on ilkay syde 



188 THE BATTLE OP HARLAW. 

Of Lowland and of HigUand men : 
Quha for thair awin liaif evir bene ; 

These lazie lowns micht weil be spaird, 
Chessit lyke deirs into their dens, 

And gat thair waiges for reward. 

Malcomtosh, of the clan heid eheif, 
Macklean, with his grit hauchty heid, 

With all thair succour and relief, 
War dulefully dung to the deid : 
And now we are freid of thair feid, 

They will not lang to cum again ; 

Thousands with them, without reraeid, 

On Donald's syd that day war slain. 

And on the uther sj'de war lost. 

Into the feild that dismal day, 
Chief men of worth, of mekle cost. 

To be lamentit sair for ay. 

The Lord Saltoun of Rothema} , 
A man of micht and mekle main ; 

Grit dolour was for his decay. 
That sae unhappylie was slain. 

Of the best men amang them was 
The gracious gude Lord Ogilvy, 

The sheriff principal of Angus, 
Renownit for truth and equitie. 
For faith and magnanimitie ; 

He had few fallows in the field, 
Zet fell by fatall destinie. 

For he nae ways wad grant to zield. 



THE BATTLE OF HARLAW. 189 

Sir James Scrimgeor of Dudclap, knicht, 

Grit constabill of fair Dunde, 
Unto the dulefull deith was dicht : 

The kingis cheif banner man was he, 

A valziant man of chevalrie, 
Quhais predecessors wan that place 

At Spey, with gude King William frie, 
Gainst Murray and Macduncans race. 

Gude Sir Allexander Irving, 

The much renownit laird of Drum, 
Nane in his days was bettir sene, 

Quhen they war sembUt all and sum. 

To praise him we sould not be dumm» 
For valour, witt, and worthyness ; 

To end his days he ther did cum, 
Quhois ransom is remeidyless. 

And thair the knicht of Lawriston 

Was slain into his armour schene. 
And gude Sir Robert Davidson, 

Quha provest was of Aberdene : 

The knicht of Panmure, as was sene, 
A mortall man in armour bricht. 

Sir Thomas Murray, stout and kene, 
Left to the warld thair last gude nicht. 

Thair was not sen King Keneths days 

Sic strange intestine crewel stryf 
In Scotland sene, as ilk man says, 

Quhair mony liklie lost thair lyfe ; 

Quhilk maid divorce twene man and wyfe, 
And mony childrene fatherless, 



190 HENRIE THE FIFTH's CONQUEST. 

Quhilk in this realme has bene full r}'fe 
Lord help these lands, our wrangs redress. 

In July, on Saint James his even, 
That four and twenty dismall day, 

Twelve hundred, ten score and eleven 
Of zeirs sen Chryst, the suthe to say, 
Men will remember, as they may, 

Quhen thus the veritie they knaw, 
And mony a ane may murn for ay, 

The brim battil of the Harlaw. 



KING HENllIE THE FIFTH'S CONQUEST. 

Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England. 
Percy Society, vol. xvii. p. 52. 

" From the singing of the late Francis King, of 
Skipton in Craven, an eccentric character, who was 
well known in the western dales of Yorkshire as 
*the Skipton Mmstrel.' King's version does not 
contain the third verse, which is obtained, as is also 
the title, from a modern broadside, from whence 
also one or two verbal corrections are made, of too 
trifling a nature to particularize. The tune to which 
King used to sing it, is the same as that of Tlie Bold 
Pedlar and Robin Hood." 

Another ballad, much inferior in spirit to this, on 
the Battle of Agincourt, is to be found in The Crown 
Garland of Golden Hoses (ed. 1659), Pe.rcy Soc. vol 



HENRIE THE FIFTh's CONQUEST. 191 

XV. p. 65. Percy inserted in the Reliques^ ii. 26, a 
song on this battle. Another, quoted in Heywood's 
Edward Fourth^ and therefore popular before 1600, 
is printed in Mr. Collier's preface to Shakespeare's 
Henry Fifth (new edition). 

The story of the tennis-balls is adopted from the 
chronicles by Shakespeare. " It is reported by some 
hislorlans," says Hume, " that the Dauphin, in de- 
rision of Henry's claims and dissolute character, sent 
him a box of tennis-balls, intimating that mere imple 
ments of play were better adapted to him than the 
instruments of war. But this story is by no means 
credible ; the great offers made by the court of France 
show that they had already entertained a just idea of 
Henry's character, as well as of their own situation.*^ 
History of England , ch. xix. 

As our king lay musing on his bed, 

He bethought himself upon a time 
Of a tribute that was due from France, 
Had not been paid for so long a time. 
Down, a-down, a-down, a-down^ 
Doivji, a-down, a-down. 

He called on his trusty page, 

His trusty page then called he, 
" O you must go to the king of France, 

O you must go right speedilie. 

"And tell him of my tribute due, 
Ten ton of gold that's due to me. 

That he must send me my tribute home. 
Or in French land he soon will me see." 



192 HENRIE THE FIFTH'S CONQUEST. 

O then away went the trusty page, 

Away, away, and away went he, 
Until he came to the king of France ; 

Lo ! he fell down on his bended knee. 

" My master greets you, worthy Sire ; 

Ten ton of gold there is due, says he ; 
You must send him his tribute home, 

Or in French land you will soon him see." 

"Your master's young, and of tender years. 

Not fit to come into my degree ; 
But I will send him three tennis balls. 

That with them learn to play may he.'* 

O then away came the trusty page. 
Away, and away, and away came he, 

Until he came to our gracious king ; 
Lo ! he fell down on his bended knee. 

" What news, what news, my trusty page, 

What news, what news, hast thou brought to 
me?" 

" I've brought such news from the king of France, 
That you and he will ne'er agree. 

" He says you're young, and of tender years, 

Not fit to come into his degree ; 
But he will send you three tennis balls, 

That with them you may learn to play.** 

O then bespoke our noble king, 
A solemn vow then vow^d he ; 



HENRIE THE FIFTH'S CONQUEST. 193 

" I'll promise him such tennis balls, 
As in French lands he ne'er did see. 

" Go, call up Cheshire and Lancashire, 

And Derby hills, that are so free ; 
Not a married man, nor a widow's son, 

For the widow's cry shall not go with me." 

They called up Cheshire and Lancashire, 

And Derby lads that were so free ; 
Not a married man, nor a widow's son. 

Yet they were a jovial bold companie. 

O then he sailed to fair French land. 
With drums and trumpets so merrilie ; 

O then bespoke the king of France, 
" Yonder comes proud king Henrie." 

The first fire that the Frenchmen gave, 
They killed our Englishmen so free ; 

We killed ten thousand of the French, 

And the rest of them they were forced to flee. 

And then we marched to Paris gates. 
With drums and trumpets so merrilie ; 

O then bespoke the king of France, 

" Lord have mercy on my poor men and me ! 

" Go I tell him I'll send home his tribute due, 
Ten ton of gold that is due from me ; 

And the fairest flower that is in our French land 
To the Rose of England it shall go free." 
VOL. VII. 13 



194 JANE SHORE. 



JANE SHORE. 

The story and character of Jane Shore can best be 
read in a charmingly written passage of Sir Thomas 
More's History of Edward Fifth ^ quoted in Percy's 
Rcliques, ii. 268. The ballad adheres to matter of 
fact with a fidelity very uncommon. In Drayton'? 
England's Heroioal. Epistles is one from Jane Shore 
to King Edward, and in the notes he thus gives her 
portrait : " Her stature was meane, her haire of a 
dark yellow, her face round and full, her eye gray, 
delicate harmony being betwixt each part's propor- 
tion, and each proportion's colour, her body fat, white, 
and smooth, her countenance cheerfull and like to her 
condition." (Cited by Percy.) 

This ballad is taken from the Collection of 1723, 
vol. i. p. 145. The full title is : The Woeful Lamen- 
tation of June Shore, a Goldsmith's Wife in London, 
sometime King Edward the Fourth's Concubine. The 
same version, with trifling variations, is found in Percy's 
Reliques, ii. 274, and Ritson's Ancient SongSy ii. 128. 
In the Garland of Good Will there is another piece 
on the same subject, (Percy Society, vol. xxx. p. 9, 
liie Lamentation of Shore's Wife,) and in the Collec- 
tion of 172:^, a burlesque song, called King Edward 
and Jane Shore (vol. i. p. 1 53). 

If Rosamond, that was so fair, 
Had cause her sorrow to declare, 
Then let Jane Shore with sorrow sing, 
That was beloved of a kinsf. 



JANE SHORE. 19o 

Then, wanton wives, in time amend, 
For love and beauty will have end. 

In maiden years my beauty bright 
Was loved dear by lord and knight ; 
But yet the love that they requir'd, 
It was not as my friends desir'd. 

My parents they, for thirst of gain, 
A husband for me did obtain ; 
And I, their pleasui-e to fulfil, 
Was forc'd to wed against my will. 

To Matthew Shore I was a wife, 
Till lust brought ruin to my life ; 
And then my life I lewdly spent, 
Which makes my soul for to lament. 

In Lombard-street I once did dwell, 
As London yet can witness well ; 
Where many gallants did behold 
My beauty in a shop of gold. 

I spread my plumes, as wantons do, 
Some sweet and secret friende to wooe, 
Because my love I did not find 
Agreeing to my wanton mind. 

At last my name in court did ring 
Into the ears of England's king. 
Who came and lik'd, and love requir'd, 
But I made coy what he desir'd. 



196 



JANE SHORE. 



Yet Mistress Blague, a neighbour near, 
Whose friendship I esteemed dear, 
Did say, " It is a gallant thing 
To be beloved of a king." 

By her perswasions I was led 

For to defile my marriage-bed, 

And wronge my wedded husband Shore, 

Whom I had lov'd ten years before. 

In heart and mind I did rejoyce, 
That I had made so sweet a choice ; 
And therefore did my state resign. 
To be King Edward's concubine. 

From city then to court I went, 
To reap the pleasures of content ; 
There had the joys that love could bring, 
And knew the secrets of a king. 

When I was thus advanc'd on high, 
Commanding Edward with mine eye, 
For Mistress Blague I in short space 
Obtain'd a living from his Grace. 

No friend I had, but in short time 
I made unto promotion cHmb ; 
\But yet for all this costly pride. 
My husbande could not me abide. 

His bed, tho' wronged by a king, 
His heart with deadly grief did sting ; 



JANE SHORE. 197 

From England then lie goes away 
To end his life beyond i the sea. 

He could not live to see his name 
Impaired by my wanton shame ; 
Altho' a prince of peerless might 
Did reap the pleasure of his right. 

Long time I lived in the court, 
With lords and ladies of great sort ; 
And when I smil'd, all men were glad, 
But when I mourn'd, my prince grew sad. 

But yet an honest mind I bore 

To helpless people, that were poor ; 

1 still redress'd the orphan's cry, 

And sav'd their lives condemn'd to dye. 

I still had ruth on widows tears, 
I succour'd babes of tender years ; 
And never look'd for other gain 
But love and thanks, for all my pain. 

At last my royal king did dye. 
And then my days of woe grew nigh ; 
When crook-back'd Kichard got the crown, 
King Edward's friends were soon put down. 

I then was punish'd for my sin. 
That I so long had lived in ; 
Yea, every one that was his friend. 
This tyrant brought to shameful end. 

1 upon 



198 JANE SHORE. 

Then for my lewd^ and wanton life, 
That made a strumpet of a wife, 
I penance did in Lombard-street, 
In shameful manner in a sheet: 

Where many thousands did me view, 
Who late in court my credit knew ; 
Which made the tears run down my face, 
To think upon my foul disgrace. 

Not thus content, they took from mee 
My goods, my livings, and my fee. 
And charg'd that none should me relieve. 
Nor any succour to me give. 

Then unto Mistress Blague I went. 
To whom my jewels I had sent. 
In hope thereby to ease my want. 
When riches fail'd, and love grew scant. 

But she deny'd to me the same. 
When in my need for them I came ; 
To recompence my former love, 
Out of her doors she did me shove. 

So love did vanish with my state. 
Which now my soul repents too late ; 
Therefore example take by me, 
For friendship parts in poverty. 

But yet one friend among the rest, 
Whom I before had seen distress'd, 

1 rude. 



JANE SHORE. 199 

And sav'd his life, condemn'd to dye, 
Did give me food to succour me: 

For whicli, by law it was decreed 
That he was hanged for that deed ; 
His death did grieve me so much more, 
Than had I dy'd myself therefore. 

Then those to whom I had done good 
Durst not afford^ mee any food ; 
Whereby in vain I begg'd all day, 
And still in streets by night I lay. 

My gowns beset with pearl and gold, 
Were turn'd to simple garments old ; 
My chains and jems and golden rings, 
To filthy rags and loathsome things. 

Thus was I scorn'd of maid and wife, 
For leading such a wicked life ; 
Both sucking babes and children small, 
Did make a pastime at my fall. 

I could not get one bit of bread, 
Whereby my hunger might be fed : 
Nor drink, but such as channels yield, 
Or stinking ditches in the field. 

Thus, weary of my life, at length 
I yielded up my vital strength. 
Within a ditch of loathsome scent, 
Where carrion dogs do much frequent : 

1 restore. 



200 JANE SHORE. 

The which now since my dying day. 
Is Shoreditchi call'd, as writers say ; 
Which is a witness of my sin, 
For being concubme to a king. 

You wanton wives, that fall to lust, 
Be you assur'd that God is just ; 
Whoredom shall not escape his hand, 
Nor pride unpunish'd in this land. 

If God to me such shame did bring, 
That yielded only to a king, 
How shall they scape that daily run 
To practise sin with every man ? 

You husbands, match not but for love, 

Lest some disliking after prove ; 

Women, be warn'd when you are wives, 

What plagues are due to sinful lives : 

Then, maids and wives, in time amend, 
For love and beauty will have end. 

1 But it had this name long before; being so called from 
its being a common sewer (vulgarly shore) or drain.— 
Pekcy. 



SIB ANDREW BARTON. 201 



A TRUE RELATION OF THE LIFE AND 
DEATH OF SIR ANDREW BARTOx^, A 
PYRATE AND ROVER ON THE SEAS. 

This copy of Sir Andrew Barton is to be found in 
Old Ballads (1723) vol. i. 159, Ritson's Ancient Songs, 
ii. 204, Moore's Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad 
Poetry, p. 256, and Early Naval Ballads of England, 
Percy Society, vol. ii. p. 4, with only exceedingly 
trifling variations. We have followed the last, where 
the ballad is given from a black-letter copy m the 
British Museum, " printed by and for W. O., apd sold 
by the booksellers.'* 



When Flora with her fragi-ant flowers, 

Bedeckt the earth so trim and gay, 
And Neptune with his dainty showers, 

Came to present the month of May, 
King Henry would a-hunting ride ; 

Over the river Thames passed he,^ 
Unto a mountain-top also 

Did walk, some pleasure for to see. 

Where forty merchants he espy'd, 
With fifty sail came towards him. 

Who then no sooner were arriv'd. 
But on their knees did thus complain ; 

" An't please your grace, we cannot sail 



202 SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

To France no voyage to be sure, 
But Sir Andrew Barton makes us quail, 
And robs us of our marchant ware.*' 

Vext was the king, and turning him, 

Said to the lords of high degree, 
" Have I ne'er a lord within my realm. 

Dare fetch that tray tor unto me ? " 
To him reply'd Charles Lord Howard, 

" I will, my liege, with heart and hand ; 
If it will please you grant me leave," he said, 

" I will perform what you command." 

To him then spoke King Henry, 

'•' I fear, my lord, you are too young.*' 
" No whit at all, my liege," quoth he ; 

" I hope to prove in valour strong. 
The Scotch knight I vow to seek. 

In what place soever he be, 
And bring ashore with all his might, 

Or into Scotland he shall carry me." 

" A hundred men," the king then said, 

" Out of my realm shall chosen be. 
Besides sailors and ship-boys, 

To guide a great ship on the sea. 
Bowmen and gunners of good skill, 

Shall for this service chosen be, 
And they at thy command and will 

In all aifairs shall wait on thee." 

Lord Howard call'd a gunner then, 
Who was the best in all the reahn, 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 203 

His age was threescore years and ten, 

And Peter Simon was his name. 
My lord call'd then a bow-man rare, 

Whose active hands had gained fame 
A gentleman born in Yorkshire, 

And William Horsely was his name. 

" Horsely ! " quoth he, "I must to sea, 

To seek a traytor, with good speed : 
Of a hundred bow-men brave," quoth he, 

" I have chosen thee to be the head." 
" If you, my lord, have chosen me 

Of a hundred men to be the head, 
Upon the mainmast I'll hanged be. 

If twelve-score I miss one shilling's breadth.'' 

Lord Howard then of courage bold, 

Went to the sea with pleasant cheer, 
Not curbed with winter's piercing cold, 

Tho' it was the stormy time of year. 
Not long had he been on sea. 

More in days than number three. 
But one Henry Hunt then he espy'd, 

A merchant of Newcastle was he. 

To him Lord Howard call'd out amain. 

And strictly charged him to stand ; 
Demanding then from whence he came. 

Or where he did intend to land. 
The merchant then made answer soon, 

With heavy heart and careful mind, 
" My lord, my ship it doth belong 

" Unto New-castle upon Tine." 



204 SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

" Canst thou show me," the lord did say, 

" As thou didst sail by day and night, 
A Scottish rover on the sea, 

His name is Andrew Barton, knight ? *' 
Then the merchant sighed and said, 

With grieved mind and well-a-way, 
" But over well I know that wight, 

I was his prisoner yesterday. 

" As I, my lord, did sail from France, 

A Burdeaue voyage to take so far, 
I met with Sir Andrew Barton thence, 

"Who robb'd me of my merchant ware. 
And mickle debts God knows I owe. 

And every man doth crave his own ; 
And I am bound to London now, 

Of our gracious king to beg a boon." 

" Show me him," said Lord Howard then, 

" Let me once the villain see, 
And every penny he hath from thee ta'en, 

I'll double the same with shillings three.' 
" Now, God forbid," the merchant said, 

" I fear your aim that you will miss ; 
God bless you from his tyranny. 

For little you think what man he is. 

" He is brass within and steel without, 
His ship most huge and mighty strong, 

With eighteen pieces of ordinance. 
He carrieth on each side along. 

With beams for his top-castle, 
As also being huge and high, 



Sm ANDREW BARTON. 205 

*rhat neither English nor Portugal 
Can Sir Andrew Barton pass by." 

•' Hard news thou shewst," then said the lord, 

" To welcome stranger to the sea ; 
But as I said, I'll bring him aboard, 

Or into Scotland he shall carry me." 
The merchant said, " If thou will do so, 

Take councel, then, I pray withal : 
Let no man to his top-castle go, 

Nor strive to let his beams downfall. 

"Lend me seven pieces of ordnance then, 

Of each side of my ship," said he, 
"And to-morrow, my Lord, 

Again I will your honour see. 
A glass I set as may be seen. 

Whether you sail by day or night ; 
And to-morrow, be sure before seven, 

You shall see Sir Andrew Barton, knight." 

The merchant set my lord a glass. 

So well apparent in his sight, 
That on the morrow, as his jiromise was, 

He saw Sir Andrew Barton, knight : 
The lord then swore a mighty oath, 

" Now by the heavens that be of might, 
By faith, believe me, and my troth, 

I think he is a worthy knight." 

" Fetch me my lyon out of hand," i 

Saith the lord, " with rose and streamer high ; 

1 Tn some copies this stanza is wrongly placed after the 
next. 



206 SIR ANDRLW BARTON. 

Set up withal a wIUow-Avand, 

That merchant like I may pass by : " 

Thus bravely did Lord Howard pass, 
And on anchor rise so high ; 

No top-sail at last he cast, 
But as a foe did him defie. 

Sir Andrew Barton seeing him 

Thus scornfully to pass by, 
As tho' he cared not a pin 

For him and his company ; 
Then called he his men amain, 

" Fetch back yon pedlar now," quoth he, 
And ere this way he comes again, 

I'll teach him well his courtesie." 

A piece of ordnance soon was shot 

By this proud pirate fiercely then. 
Into Lord Howard's middle deck, 

Which cruel shot killed fourteen men. 
He called then Peter Simon, he : 

" Look how thy word do stand instead, 
For thou shall be hanged on main-mast, 

If thou miss twelve score one penny breadth. 

Then Peter Simon gave a shot. 

Which did Sir Andrew mickle scare. 
In at his deck it came so hot. 

Killed fifteen of his men of war. 
"Alas," then said the pirate stout, 

" I am in danger now I see ; 
This is some lord, I greatly fear, 

That is set on to conquer me." 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 207 

Then Henry Hunt, with rigour hot, 

Came bravely on the other side, 
Who likewise shot in at his deck, 

And killed fifty of his men beside. 
Then " Out alas," Sir Andrew cryd, 

" What may a man now think or say ! 
Yon merchant thief that pierceth me, 

He was my prisoner yesterday." 

Then did he on Gordion call 

Unto the top castle for to go, 
And bid his beams he should let fall. 

For he greatly fear'd an overthrow. 
The lord call'd Horsely now in haste : 

" Look that thy word stand in stead. 
For thou shall be hanged on main mast, 

If thou miss twelve score a shilling's breadth.*' 

Then up [the] mast tree swerved he. 

This stout and mighty Gordion ; 
But Horsely he most happily 

Shot him under his collar-bone : 
Then call'd he on his nephew then. 

Said, " Sister's son, I have no mo, 
Three hundred pound I will give thee. 

If thou will to top-castle go." 

Then stoutly he began to climb, 

From off the ^ast scorn'd to depart ; 

But Horsely soon prevented him. 

And deadly pierced him to the heart. 

His men being slain, then up amain 
Did this proud pirate climb with speed, 



208 SIR ANDREW BARTON. 

For armour of proof he had on, 
And did not dint of arrows dread. 

" Come hither, Horseley," said the lord, 

" See thou thy arrows aim aright ; 
Great means to thee I will afford, 

And if thou speedst, I'll make thee knight" 
Sir Andrew did climb up the tree, 

With right good will and all his main ; 
Then upon the breast hit Horsley he. 

Till the arrow did return again. 

Then Horsley spied a private place. 

With a perfect eye, in a secret part ; 
His arrow swiftly flew apace, 

And smote Sir Andrew to the heart. 
" Fight on, fight on, my merry men all, 

A little I am hurt, yet not slain ; 
I'll but lie down and bleed awhile. 

And come and fight with you again. 

"And do not," said he, " fear English rogues, 

And of your foes stand not in awe. 
But stand fast by St. Andrew's crosse. 

Until you hear my whistle blow." 
They never heard this whistle blow, 

WTiich made them all full sore afraid. 
Then Horsely said, " My Lord, aboard, 

For now Sir Andrew Barton's dead." 

Thus boarded they his gallant ship, 

With right good wll and all their main ; 
Eighteen score Scots alive in it, 



SIR ANDREW BARTON. 209 

Besides as many more was slain. 
The lord went where Sir Andrew lay, 

And quickly thence cut off his head ; 
" I should forsake England many a day, 

If thou wert alive as thou art dead." 

Thus from the wars Lord Howard came, 

With mickle joy and triumphing ; 
The pirate's head he brought along 

For to present unto our king : 
Who haply unto him did say, 

Before he well knew what was done, 
" Where is the knight and pirate gay, 

That I myself may give the doom ? " 

" You may thank God," then said the lord, 

"And four men in the ship," quoth he, 
That we are safely come ashore, 

Sith you never had such an enemy ; 
That is Henry Hunt, and Peter Simon, 

William Horsely, and Peter's soni ; 
Therefore reward them for their pains, 

For they did service at their turn." 

To the merchant therefore the King he said, 
" In lieu of what he hath from thee tane, 

I give thee a noble a-day. 

Sir Andrew's whistle and his chain : 

To Peter Simon a crown a-day, 

1 Thj se. vices of Peter's son, not mentioned in this 
ballad, are duly recorded in the older, unabridged copy. See 
V. 63-56, on p. 64. 

VOL. VII. 14 



210 THE BATTLE OF CORICHIE. 

And half-a-crown a-day to Peter's son, 
And that was for a shot so gay, 

Which bravely brought Sir Andrew down. 

" Horsely, I will make thee a knight, 

And in Yorkshire thou shalt dwell: 
Lord Howard shall Earl Bury hight, 

For this act he deserveth well. 
Ninety pound to our Englishmen, 

Who in this fight did stoutly stand ; 
And twelve-pence a-day to the Scots, till they 

Come to my brother king's high land." 



THE BATTLE OF CORICHIE ON THE HILL 
OF FAIR, FOUGHT OCT. 28, 1562. 

From Evans's Old Ballads, iii. 132. 

The favor shown by Queen Mary to her brother 
Lord James Stuart, on her first coming to Scotland, 
excited a violent jealousy in Gordon, Earl o£ Huntly, 
who, as a Catholic, and the head of a loyal and pow- 
erful family in the North, expected no slight distinction 
from his sovereign. This jealousy broke out into 
open hostility when the Queen, in 1562, conferred 
on her brother the earldom of Murray, the honors 
And revenues of which had been enjoyed by Huntly 
since 1548. INIary was at this time on a progress in 
the northern part of her kingdom, attended by the 
new earl and a small escort. Huntly collected his 



THE BATTLE OF CORICHIE. 211 

vassals and posted himself at a place called the Fair 
Bank, or Corichie, near Aberdeen. Murray having 
increased his forces by seven or eight hundred of the 
Forbeses and Leslies, who, although attached to the 
Huntly faction, dared not disobey the Queen's sum- 
mons, marched to the attack. As little confidence 
could be placed in the good faith of the northern 
recruits, he ordered them to begin the battle. In 
obedience to this command, they advanced against 
the enemy, but instantly recoiled and retreated in a 
pretended panic on Murray's reserve, followed by the 
(jordons in disorder. The Queen's party received 
both the flying and the pursuers with an impenetrable 
front of lances. Huntly was repulsed, and the other 
northern clans, seeing how the victory was going, 
t urned their swords upon their friends. Many of the 
(xordons were slain, and the Earl, who was old and 
fat, being thrown from his horse, was smothered in 
the retreat. His sons John and Adam were taken 
prisoners, and the former was put to death at Aber- 
deen the day after the battle. 

The following ballad, it will be perceived, is utterly 
at variance with the facts of history. It was first 
printed in Evans's Old Ballads, and is said to be the 
composition of one Forbes, schoolmaster at Mary- 
Culter, on Dee-side. The dialect is broad Aber- 
deen. 



MuRN ye heighlands, and murn ye leighlands, 

I trow ye hae meikle need ; 
For thi bonny burn o* Corichie 

His run this day wi' bleid. 



212 THE BATTLE OF CORICHIE. 

Tliii liopefu' laird o' Finliter, 

Erie Huntly's gallant son, 
For thi love hi bare our beauteous quine 

His gar't fair Scotland mone. 

Hi liis braken his ward in Aberdene, 
Throu dreid o' thi fause Murry, 

And his gather't the gentle Gordone clan, 
An' his father, auld Huntly. 

Fain wid he tak our bonny guide quine, 

An' beare hir awa' wi' him ; 
But Murry's slee wyles spoil't a' thi sport. 

An' reft him o' lyfe and hm. 

Alurry gar 't rayse thi tardy Merns men, 
An' Angis, an' mony ane mair, 

Erie Morton, and the Byres Lord Linsay, 
An' campit at thi hill o' Fare. 

Erie Huntlie came wi' Haddo Gordone, 
An' countit ane thusan men ; 

But Murry had abien twal hunder, 
Wi' sax score horsemen and ten. 

They soundlt thi bougills an' the trumpitg^. 
An' marchit on in brave array, 

Till the spiers an' the axis forgatherit. 
An' than did begin thi fray. 

Thi Gordones sae fercelie did fecht it, 
Withouten terrer or dreid, 

1 This. 



THE BATTLE OF CORICHIE. 213 

That mony o' Murry's men lay gaspin, 
An' dyit thi grund wi theire bleid. 

Then faiise Murry felngit to flee them, 

An' they pursuit at his backe, 
Whan thi haf o' thi Gordones desertit, 

An* turnit wi' Murray in a crack. 

Wi hether i' thir bonnits they turnit, 

The traiter Haddo o' their heid, 
An slaid theire brithers an' their fatheris, 

An' spoilit an' left them for deid. 

Then Murry cried to tak thi auld Gordone, 

An' mony ane ran wi' speid ; 
But Stuart o' Inchbraik had him stickit, 

An' out gushit thi fat lurdane's bleid. 

Then they teuke his twa sones quick an' hale, « 

An' bare them awa' to Aberdene ; 
But fair did our guide quine lament 

Thi waeful chance that they were tane. 

Erie Murry lost mony a gallant stout man , 

Thi hopefu' laird o' Thornitune, 
Pittera's sons, an Egli's far fearit laird. 
An mair to mi unkend, fell doune. 

Erie Huntly mist ten score o' his bra' men. 
Sum o' heigh an' sum o' leigh degree ; 

Skeenis youngest son, thi pryde o' a' the clau, 
Was ther fun' dead, he widna flee. 



214 THE BATTLE OF BALRINNE3. 

This bloody fecht wis fercely faucht 
Octobri's aught an' twinty day, 

Crystis' fyfteen hundred thriscore yelr 
An' twa will merk thi deidlie fray. 

But now the day maist waefu' came, 
That day the quine did grite her fill. 

For Huntly's gallant stalwart son, 
"Wis heidit on thi heidin hill. 

Fyve noble Gordones wi' him hangit were 

Upon thi samen fatal playne ; 
Crule Murry gar't thi waefu' quine luke out» 

And see hir lover an' liges slayne. 

I wis our quine had better frinds, 
I wis our country better peice ; 

I wis our lords wid na' discord, 
I wis our weirs at hame may ceise. 



THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES, 

(otherwise called the battle of glenlivet.) 

When Philip the Second was preparing his Armada 
for the conquest of England, he spared no pains to 
.nduce James of Scotland to favor his enterpiise. 
Elizalbeth, on her part, was not less active to secure 
the friendship of a neighbor, who, by opening or 
closing his ports, might do so much to assist or to 
counteract the projects of her enemy. James had the 



THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES. 215 

wisdom to see that it was not for his interest to ally 
himself with a power that sought the extinction of 
the faith which he professed, and the subjugation of a 
kingdom to which he was the heir. The Spanish 
overtures wei^ rejected, and the great body of the 
people, warmly applauding the king's decision, entered 
into a combination to resist an attempt to land at any 
point on the Scottish coast. There was, nevertheless, 
a small party in Scotland which favoured the designs 
of Philip. At the head of this faction were the 
Catholic Earls of Huntly, Errol, and Angus. Even 
after the dispersion of the Armada, they kept up ne- 
gotiations with the Prince of Parma and the King 
of Spain, in the hope of restoring the ancient religion, 
or at least of obtaining for themselves an equality of 
privileges with the Protestants. More than once were 
the leaders of this party committed to prison for overt 
acts of treason, and released by the clemency of the 
sovereign, but suffering as the Romanists did under 
the oppression of a fanatical majority, rebellion was 
th^r natural condition. 

After various acts of insubordination, continued for 
a series of years, it was proved beyond question that 
the Catholic earls had signed papers for an invasion 
of Britain by 30,000 foreigners. A Convention of 
Estates, summoned to consider the affair, finally de- 
termined that the three earls should be exempt fl^om 
further inquiry on account of this conspiracy, but that 
before the first day of February, 1594, they should 
either renounce the errors of Popery, or remove from 
the kingdom. The Catholic leaders, relying on the 
number of their supporters, and not less on the inac- 
L'essible nature of the country in which their estates 



216 THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES. 

lay, scornfully rejected the choice proposed to them, 
renewed their connections with Spain, and were ac- 
cordingly declared guilty of high treason and subjected 
to the doom of forfeiture. 

King James's exchequer was at this time so low 
lliat it was impossible for him to undertake the enforc- 
iijor of this sentence in person. He was obliged to 
delegate the office to the young Earl of Argyle, who 
was induced to accept the appointment by the prom- 
ise of a portion of Huntly's forfeited estates. The 
prospect of booty and the authority of the chief of the 
Campbells drew together six or seven thousand High- 
landers, to whom were joined some hundreds of men 
from the Western Islands, under the chief of Maclean, 
With this body, one fourth of whom carried firelocks, 
while the rest were armed after the Gaelic fashion, 
Argyle descended from the hills towards Huntly's 
castle of Strathbogie. 

The chief of the Gordons, suddenly assailed, had no 
time to procure assistance from Angus. He collected 
about a thousand gentlemen of his own name, and 
Errol came to his aid with two or three hundred of 
the Hays. All these were men of birth, well armed 
and mounted, and to this small, but powerful, troop 
of cavalry, was added a train of six field pieces (en- 
gines very terrible to Highlanders), under the manage- 
ment of an excellent soldier, the very same Captain 
Ker, who has figured already in the ballad of Edom 
o' Gordon. 

The armies encountered at a place called Belrinnea 
in a district called Glenlivet. The Highlanders were 
posted on a mountain-side, so steep that footmen could 
barely keep their hold. Notwithstanding this obstacle, 



THE BATTLE OF BALRTNNES. 217 

the Earls determined to attempt the ascent, and 
Errol, supported by Sir Patrick Gordon, led the Hays 
up the hill in the very face of the foe. While the 
vanguard was advancing, Ker brought some of his 
artillery to bear on Argyle's front, -which threw the 
Highlanders into confusion, and caused some of them 
to fly. Errol's horsemen, however, were soon forced 
by the steepness of the mountain to wheel and move 
obliquely, and their flank being thus exposed, their 
horses suffered considerable damage from a volley of 
bullets and arrows. Upon this Huntly made a fierce 
attack upon Argyle's centre, and bore down his ban- 
ner, and his cavalry soon after attaining to more 
even ground, where their horses could operate with 
efliciency, the Highlanders, who were destitute of 
lances, and so unable to withstand the shock, were 
driven down the other side of the hill, and put to 
utter rout. The chief of Maclean alone withstood 
the assault of the horsemen, and performed marvel- 
lous feats of bravery, but was at last forced off the field 
by his own soldiers, and Argyle himself was compelled 
to fly, weeping with anger. Of the Catholics, Sir 
Patrick Gordon, Huntley's uncle, was slain, with only 
twelve others. The loss of the other party was several 
hundred soldiers, besides some men of note, among 
them Campbell of Lochinzell. 

This battle was fought on the third of October, 
1594. The action is called the Battle of Glenlivet, 
or of Balrinnes, and also of Strath-avi n. — See the 
38th chapter of Sir W. Scott's History of Scotland, 
and the contemporary narrative in Dalzell's Scotish 
Poems of the Sixteenth Century, i. 136. 

The ballad which follows is taken from the publica- 



218 THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES. 

tion of Dalzell just mentioned, vol. ii. p. 347. There 
is a copy in the Pepys Collection, and another in the 
Advocates* Library, printed at Edinburgh in 1681 
The ballad is also pi'inted, undoubtedly from a stall 
copy, in Scarce Ancient Ballads^ p. 29. The first 
four stanzas had previously been given in Jamieson's 
Popular Ballads^ ii. 144. The older version of Dal- 
zell is somewhat defective, and abounds in errors, 
"wliicli, as well as the vitiated orthograpliy, are attrib- 
uted to tlie ignorance of an English transcriber. The 
omissions are here supplied in the margin from the 
other copies. 

Betuixt Dunother and Aberdein, 

I rais and tuik the way, 
Beleiuing weill it had not beine 

Nought halff ane hour to day. 
The lift was clad with cloudis gray, s 

And owermaskit was»the moone, 
Quhilk me deceaued whair I lay, 

And maid me ryss ouer soone. 

On Towie Mounth I mett a man, 

Weill grathed in his gear : ic 

Quoth I, " Quhat neues ? " then he begane 

To tell a fitt of warre. 
Quoth he, " Of lait I heir, 

Ane bloodie broust there was brouine, 

19-24. Saying, " The rtiinisters, I fear, 

A bloody browst have brown, i; 

For yesterday, withouthen mair, 
On the hill at Stradown, 



THE BATTLE OF BALRINNE5. 219 

Zesterday, withouten molr, is 

Upone ane hill at Strathdoune." 

Then I, as any man wold be, « 

Desyrous for to know 
Mair of that taill he told to me, 

The quhilk he said he sawe — 
Be then the day began to daw. 

And back with him I red ; w 

Then he began the soothe to schaw. 

And on this wayis he said. 

Macallenmore cam from the wast 

With many a bow and brand ; 
To wast the Rinnes he thought best, as 

The Earll of Huntlies land. 
He swore that none should him gainestand, 

Except that he war fay ; 
Bot all sould be at his comand 

That dwelt be northen Tay. « 

Then Huntlie, for to prevent that perrill, 
Directit hastilie 



" I saw three lords in battle fight 

Right furiously awhile, 
Huntlie and Errol, as they hight. 

Were both against Argyle. 
Turn back with me and ride a mile, 

And I shall make it kend, 
How they began, the form and stile, 

And of the battles end." 

Jamieso» 
36. landis. 



THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES. 



Besought him for supplie. 
Quha said, " It is my deutie 

For to giue Huntlie support ; 
For if he lossis Strabolgie, 

My Slaines vrill be ill hurt 

" Thairfoir I hald the subject vaine, 

Wold rave us of our right ; 
First sail one of us be slaine, 

The uther tak the flight. 
Suppose Argyll be muche of might, 

Be force of Heigheland men ; 
We's be a motte into his sight, 

Or he pas hame againe. 

" Be blaithe, my mirrie men, be blaithe, 

Argyll sail have the worse, 
Give he into this countrie kaithe, 

I houpe in God[i]s cross." 
Then leap this lord upon his horss, 

Ane warrlyk troupe at Torray ; 
To meit with Huntlie and his force. 

They ryde to Elgine of Murray. 

The sajnen night thir lordis meit ; 

For utheris, who thought long, 
(To tell zow all, I haue forgot) 

The mirthe was them amonge. 
Then playeris played, and songsters song, 

To gled the mirrie host, 
Quho feared not thair foes strong, 

Nor zet Argylles boste. 



THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES. 221 

They for two dayes wold not remove, 

Bot blaithlie dranck the wyne, 
Some to his lass, some to his loue, 75 

Some to his ladeis fyne. 
And he that thought not for to blyne, 

His mistres tockin tackes ; 
They kist it first, and set it syne 

Upone thair helmes and jackes. w 

They past thair t}Tne right -wantonly, 

Quhill word cam at ye last, 
Argyll, with ane great armie. 

Approached wondrous fast. 
Then [out] of the toune thir barrones past, « 

And Huntlie to them said, 
" Good gentillmen, we will us cast 

To Strathbolgie but bed." 

Quhen they ifeito Strathbolgie came, 

To that castell but dreid, » 

Then to forsee how thingis might frame, 

88. beed. 
91. fraine. 

89-96. This stanza is nnintelligible in Dalzell. It stands 
thus in Laing's copy. 

When they unto Strathboggy came, 

To council soon they geed, 
For to see how things might frame, 

For they had meikle need. 
They voted then to do a deed 

As kirkmen do devise, 
And pray'd that they might find good speed 

In that great interprise. 



222 THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES 

For they had meikle neld, 
They woned them unto the dead, 

As kirkmen could devys ; 
Syne prayed to God that they might speed 86 

Off thair guid enterpryse. 

Then evirie man hunself did arms, 

To meit Mackallanmorne, 
Unto Strathdoune quho did great harme 

The Wednesday beforne. w 

As lyounes does poore lambes devoure, 

With bloodie teethe and naillis, 
They burnt the biggingis, tuik the store, 

Syne slewe the peopillis sellis. 

Besyd all this hie crueltie, los 

He said, ere he should ceass. 
The standing stonnes of Strathbolgie 

Schould be his palione place. 
Bot Huntlie said, " With Godis grace, 

First we sail fight them ones ; no 

Perchance that they may tak the chess, 

Ere they come to the stonnes." 

Thir lordis keipt on at aftemoone, 

With all thair warrmen wight ; 
Then sped up to Cabrach sone, JW 

Whair they bed all that night. 
Upone the morne, quhen day was light, 

They rose and maid them boune 
lutill ane castell that stood on hight. 

They call it Auchindoune. i» 



THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES. 225 

Besyd that castell, on a croft, 

They stended pallionis ther ; 
Then spak a man that had bein oft 

In jeopardie of warr : 
" My lord, zour foes they ar to fear, tat 

Thoughe we war neuir so stoute ; 
Thalrfoir comand some man of warre 

To watche the rest about." 

Be this was done, some gentillmen 

Of noble kin and blood, i30 

To counsell with thir lordls begane, 

Of matteris to concluide : 
For Weill aneughe they understood 

The matter was of weght. 
They had so manie men of good us 

In battell for to fight. 

The firstin man in counsall spak, 

Good Errol it was he ; 
Who sayis, " I will the vaneguard tack, 

And leiding upone me. i« 

My Lord Huntlie, come succour me, 

When ze sie me opprest ; 
For fra the feild I will not flie 

So long as I may last." 

Thair at some Gordones waxed wraithe, ii8 

And said he did them wrong ; 
To lat this lord then they warre leath 

First to [the] battell gange. 
The meiting that was them amonge, 

149. This line seems to be corrupted. 



224 THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES. 

Was no man that it hard, w 

Bot Huntlie, with ane troupe full stronge. 
Bed into the reir guarde. 

Thir wer the number of thair force 

Thir lordis to battell led : 
Ane thousand gentillmen on horss, us 

And some fotemen they had ; 
Thrie hundreth that schot arrowes bred, 

Four scoir that hagbutis bore : 
Thir war the number that they had 

Of footmen with them suire. M 

This worthy chevalrie 

All merchand to the field ; 
Argyll, with ane great armie, 

Upone ane hill had tane beild, 
Aboyding them [with] speare and scheild, mb 

"With buUettis, dartis, and bowes ; 
The men could weill thair wapones weild ; 

To meit them was no mowes. 

When they so near uther war come, 

That ilk man saw his foe, ITO 

** Goe to, and assay the gaime," said some ; 
Bot Capitane Ker said, " No : 

161. Some words are lost. 



Thus with their noble cavalry 
They marched to the field. 

165. speares and scheildis. 
167. weild thair wapones weill. 



Laiso. 



THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES. 225 

First lat the gunes befoir us goe, 

That they may break the order : 
Quoth both the lordis, " Lat it be so, W 

Or euer we goe forder." 

Then Androw Gray, upone ane horss, 

Betuixt the battillis red ; 
Makand the signe of holy cross, 

In manus tuas he said. iso 

He lighted thair [the] gunes to led, 

Quhill they cam to the rest ; 
Then Capitane Ker unto him sped. 

And bad him shuit in haist. 

"I will not [shult]," quothe Androw Gray, iss 

" Quhill they cum over zonder hill ; 
We have an ower guid cans this dey, 

Through misgj-dins to spill. 
Goe back, and bid our men byd still, 

Quhill they cum to the plaine ; i90 

Then sail my shuitting doe them ill, 

I will not shuit in vaine." 

" Shuit up, shuit up," quothe Capitane Ker, 

" Shuit up, to our comfort ! " 
The firsten shot [it] was to neir, los 

It lighted all to schort. 
The nixtin shot thair foes hurt. 

It lighted wounderous weill : 
Quoth Androw Gray, " I sie ane sport, 

Quhen they began to reill. -m^ 

180. mannis. 187. then owei 

VOL. VIL 15 



826 THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES. 

" Goe toe, good mattes, and say the game, 

Zonder folkis ar in a fray ; 
Lat sie how we can well with them, 

Into thair disaray. 
Goe, goe, it is not tyme to stay, 

All for my bennisoune ; 
Saue non this day ze may gar dye, 

Quhill ze the feild haue wonne." 

Tlien Errol haisted to the hight, 

AVhair he did battell byd ; 
With him went Auchindoune and Gight, 

And Bonnitoune by his syd : 
Whair manie gentillman did with him byd, 

Whos prais sould not be smored ; 
Bot Capitane Ker, that was thair gyde, 

B,ed ay befoir my lord. 

They war not manie men of werre, 

Bot they war wonder trewe ; 
With hagbutis, pistolet, bowe, and speare, 

They did thair foes persewe, 
Quhair bullettis, dartis, and arrowes flew, 

Als thick as haill or raine, 



209-216. Then awful Erroll he can say 
" Good fellows, follow me : 
I hope it shall be ours this day, 

Or else therefore to die. 
Tho they in number many be. 

Set on, withoutten words; 
Let ilk brave fellow brake liis tree, 
And then pursue with swords." 
213. many were. 219. within went. 



THE BATTLE OF BALEINNES. 227 

Quliilk manle hurt, and some they slew, 
Of horss and gentillmen. 

Huntlie maid haist to succour him, 

And charged furiouslie, 
Quhair manie menis sight grew dim, 235 

The shottis so thick did flie ; 
Quhilk gart right manie doghtie die, 

Of some on euerie syd ; 
Argyll with his tald hoste did flie, 

Bot Macklenne did abyd. 240 

Macklene had one ane habershoune, 

Ilk lord had one ane jack ; 
Togidder feirc[e]lie are they rune. 

With manie a gunes crack. 
The splenderis of thair spearis they break, 245 

Flewe up into the air, 
Quhilk boore doune maney on thair back, 

Againe ros neuer mair. 

" Alace, I sie ane sore sight," 230 

Said the Laird of Macklenne ; 
" Our feible folkis is tenne the flight, 

24&-65. Then some men said, " We will be sure 

And take ^laclean by course; -'>'> 

Go to, for we are men anew 

To bear him down by force." 
But noble Errol had remorse, 

And said, ''It is not best. 
For tho Argyle has got the worst, 260 

Let him gang with the rest. 



228 THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES. 

And left me myne allaine. 
Now must I file, or els be slaine, 

Since they will not re turn e;** m 

With that he ran ouer ane dyne, 

Endlongis ane lytill burne. 

Then after great Argylles hoste 

Some horssmen tuik the chess, 
Quha turned their backes for all thair bost, 275 

Con tr air the fooles say[s]. 
They cried " oh," with manie '* alace,** 

Bot neuir for mercie sought ; 
Thairfoir the Gordones gaue no grace, 

Becaus they craved it nought. 2So 

Then some guidman perseiued sharpe, 

With Erroll and Huntlie, 
And thai with [a] capitane did carpe, 

Quhais name was Ogilvie. 
He sayis, " Gentillmen, lat see 285 

Who maniest slaine slaydis ; 
Save non this day ze may gar die. 

For pleadis, nor ransome paynes." 



257-64. " What greater honour could ye wish 
In deeds of chivalry, 
Or brave victory than this, 

Where one has chac'd thrice three? 
Therefore, good fellows, let him be ; 

He'll die before he yield; 
For he with his small company 
Bade langest in the field." 
281. perceiued. 286, 288. corrupted 



THE BATTLE OP BALRINNES. 229 

Lyk hart<»s, up howes and hillis thei ranne, 

Qubair horsmen might not winn : 2» 

" Reteir againe," quoth Huntlie then, 

" Quhair we did first begin. 
Heir lyes manie carved skinnes, 

With manie ane bloodie beard, 
For anie helpe, with litell dinne, 295 

Sail rotte aboue the eard." 

When they cam to the hill againe. 

The sett doune one thair knees. 
Syne thanked God that they had slaine 

Soe manie enimies. ^ 

They ros befor Argylles eyis. 

Maid Capitane Ker ane knight; 
Syne bed among the dead bodies, 

Whill they war out of sight. 

This deid so doughtilie was done, 

As I hard trewe men tell, 
Upone ane Thursday afternoone, 

St. Franecis ewill befell. 



806-12. Now I have you already tauld, 
Huntly and Errol's men 
Could scarce be thirteen hundred called, 

The truth if ye would ken. 
And yet Argj^le his thousands ten 

Were they that took the race, 
And tho that tliey were nine to ane. 
They caused [them] take the chace. 
308 he. 309. has. 324. should be ere, or vUjil. 



230 BONNY JOHN SETON. 

Guid AucTiindoune was slaine himself, 
With uther seven in batt61l ; 

So was the Laird of Lochinzell, 
Grate pitie was to tell. 



BONNY JOHN SETON. 

This bartkd is taken from Maidment's North Couti' 
trie Garland, p. 15. There is another ver^on in 
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland^ ii. 136 
{The Death of John Seton). 

John Seton of Pitmedden, a young and brave 
cavalier, was shot through the middle by a cannon 
ball, during the skirmish at the Bridge of Dee, while 
engaged, under the Viscount of Aboyne, in resisting 
the advance of Montrose upon the town of Aberdeen, 
in June, 1639. It was the hard fate of Aberdeen to 
suffer from the arms of Montrose, first, when he was 
general of the Covenanters, and again while he was 



813-20. Sae Argyle's boast it was in vain, 
(He thought sure not to tyne) 
That if he durst cum to the plain, 

He would gar every nine 
Of his lay hold upon ilk man 

Huntly and Errol had : 
But yet for all his odds he ran 
To tell how ill he sped. 
319. fled. 



BONNY JOHN SETON. 231 

lieutenant for the King. The murder and pillage 
perpetrated in the town by the Irish after the defeat 
of Lord Burleigh, in 1644, have been made the sub- 
ject of violent reproach by his enemies, but it may 
perhaps be said, that for all that exceeded the usual 
horrors of war, the heroic commander was not respon- 
sible. In Buchan's version of the present ballad, the 
clemency shown by Montrose on taking possession of 
the city in 1G39 is commemorated in three stanzas 
worthy of preservation. The Covenanters were " re- 
solved to have sacked it orderly." 

Out it speeks the gallant Montrose, 

(Grace on his fair body!) 
" We winna bum the bonny burgh, 

We'll even lat it be." 

Then out it speaks the gallant Montrose, 

" Your purpose I will break ; 
We winna burn the bonny burgh, 

We'll never build its make. 

" I see the women and their children 

Climbing the craigs sae hie; 
We'll sleep this night in the bonny burgh, 

And even lat it be." 



Upon the eighteenth day of June, 

A dreary day to see, 
The Southern lords did pitch their camp 

Just at the bridge of Dee. 
Bonny John Seton of Pitmeddin, 

A bold baron was he, 



232 BONNY JOHN SETON. 

He made his testament ere lie went out, 
The wiser man was he. 

He left his land to his young son, 

His lady her dowry, 
A thousand crowns to his daughter Jean^ 

Yet on the nurse's knee. 

Then out came his lady fair, 

A tear into her e'e ; 
Says " Stay at home, my own good lord, 

O stay at home with me I '* 

He looked over his left shoulder. 
Cried, " Souldiers, follow me I ** 

O then she looked in his face, 
An angry woman was she : 

" God send me back my steed^^gain, 
But ne'er let me see thee ! " 

His name was Major Middleton 

That manned the bridge of Dee ; 
^His name was Colonel Henderson 
That let the cannons flee. 

His name was Major Middleton 
That manned the bridge of Dee ; 

And his name was Colonel Henderson 
That dung Pitmeddin in three. 

Some rode on the black and gray, 
And some rode on the brown. 



BONNY JOHN SETON. 238 

But the bonny John Seton 
Lay gasping on the ground. 

Then bye there comes a false Forbes, 

"Was riding from Driminere ; 
Says " Here there lies a proud Seton, 

This day they ride the rear." 

Cragievar^ said to his men, 

" You may play on your shield ; 
For the proudest Seton in all the Ian* 

This day lies on the field." 

" spoil him, spoil him," cried Cragievar, 

" Him spoiled let me see ; 
For on my word," said Cragievar, 

" He had no good will at me." 

They took from him his armour clear. 

His sword, likewise his shield ; 
Yea they have left him naked there 

Upon the open field. , 

The Highland men, they're clever men 

At handling sword and shield, 
But yet they are too naked men 

To stay in battle field. 

The Highland men are clever men- 
At handling sword or gun, 

1 Sir William Forbes of Cragievar. 

2 The Highlanders were thrown into great constema- 
tiDD by cannon shot, to which they were not accustomed. 



234 THE HAWS OF CROMDALE. 

But yet they are too naked men 
To bear the cannon's rung. 

For a cannon's roar in a summer night 
Is like thunder in the air ; 

There's not a man ^n Highland dress 
Can face the cannon's fire. 



THE HAWS OF CROMDALE. 

Ritson's Scottish Songs, ii. 40. Johnson's Museum, p. 502. 

This ballad, very popular In Scotland, was long 
sold on the stalls before it was received into the col- 
lections. A glance will show that it has at best been 
very imperfectly transmitted by oral tradition. In 
fact, the Ettrick Shepherd seems to be right in main- 
taining that two widely separated events are here 
jumbled together. The first five stanzas apparently 
refer to an action in May, 1690, when Sir Thomas 
Livingston surprised fifteen hundred Highlanders in 
their beds at Cromdale, and the remainder to the lost 
battle of Auldern, where Montrose, with far inferior 
forces, defeated Sir John Hurry with prodigious 
slaughter, on the 4th of May, 1645. Mr. Stenhouse 

At the Raid of Stonehaven, just previous to the affair of 
the Bridge of Dee, the first volley made them wheel about 
and fly in disorder. They declared that they could not abide 
" the musket's mother." 



THE HAWS OF CROMUALE. 235 

States, indeed, that after that Imprudent division of 
the anny of the Covenant which opened the way to 
the disaster at Auldern, Hurry surprised and routed 
at Cromdale a body of Highlanders under the lion- 
hearted AUaster Macdonald. But this check appears, 
by his own language, to have been too slight an affair 
to call forth such verses as those with which the ballad 
begins. See Hogg's Jacobite Relics^ ii. 157, Johnson's 
Museum (1853), iv. 428. 



As I came in by Achendown, 
A little wee bit frae the town, 
When to the highlands I was bown, 
To view the haws of Cromdale, 

I met a man in tartan trews, 
I spier'd at him what was the news : 
Quoth he, " The highland army rues 
That e'er we came to Cromdale.** 

" "We were in bed, sir, every man. 
When the English host upon us came ; 
A bloody battle then began 

Upon the haws of Cromdale. 

" The English horse they were so rude, 
They bath'd their hoofs in highland blood. 
But our brave clans they boldly stood, 
Upon the haws of Cromdale. 

" But alas ! we could no longer stay, 
For o'er the hills we came away, 



236 THE HAWS UF GROMDALE. 

And sore we do lament the day 

That e'er we came to Cromdale/ 



Thus the great Montrose did say, 
" Can you direct the nearest way ? 
For I will o'er the hills this day, 

And view the haws of Cromdale.** 

" Alas, my lord, you're not so strong ; 
You scarcely have two thousand men, 
And there's twenty thousand on the plain, 
Stand rank and file on Cromdale.** 

Thus the great Montrose did say, 
" I say, direct the nearest way. 
For I will o'er the hills this day. 

And see the haws of Cromdale." 

They were at dinner, every man. 
When great Montrose upon them came ; 
A second battle then began 

Upon the haws of Cromdale. 

The Grants, Mackenzles, and M'Kys, 
Soon as JNIontrose they did espy, 
O then they fought most vehemently, 
Upon the haws of Cromdale. 

The M'Donalds, they return 'd again. 
The Camerons did their standard join, 
M'Intosh play'd a bonny game, 
Upon the haws of Cromdala 



THE HAWS OF CROMDALE. 237 

The M'Gregors fought like lyons bold, 
MThersons, none could them controul, 
M'Lauchlins fought like loyal souls, 
Upon the haws of Cromdale. 

[M'Leans, M'Dougals, and M'Neals, 
So boldly as they took the field, 
And made their enemies to yield, 
Upon the haws of Cromdale.] 

The Gordons boldly did advance. 
The Fraziers [fought] with sword and lance, 
The Grahams they made their heads to dance, 
Upon the haws of Cromdale. 

The loyal Stewarts, with Montrose, 
So boldly set upon their foes. 
And brought them down with highland blows, 
Upon the haws of Cromdale 

Of twenty thousand Cromwells men 
Five hundred went to Aberdeen, 
The rest of them lyes on the plain, 
Upon the haws of Cromdale. 



838 THE BATTLE OF ALFORD. 



THE BATTLE OF ALFORD. 

Two months after the defeat of Sir John Hurry at 
Auldern, Montrose utterly destroyed the other divis- 
ion of tlie covenanting army, under General Baillie, at 
Alford on the Don. On the 2d of July, the King's 
forces marched from Drumminor, and crossed the 
Don to Alford, Montrose and the Earl of Aboyne 
taking up their quarters in the castle of Asloun. 
Baillie, who was now in pursuit of the royalists, 
moved southward, and encamped on the day just 
mentioned, at Lesly. The next morning he crossed 
the river (halting on the way near a farm called 
Mill Hill), whereupon the battle took place. Mon- 
trose dearly purchased this new victory by the loss 
of Lord George Gordon, who commanded the right 
wing, not the left 

These fragmentary verses are from The Thistle of 
■Scotland, p. 68. 



The Graham[s and] Gordons of Aboyne 

Camp'd at Drumminor bog ; 
At the castle there they lay all night, 

And left them scarce a hog. 



The black Baillie, that auld dog, 



Appeared on our right ; 
We quickly raise up frae the bog. 
To Alford march'd that night 



THE BATTLE OF ALFORD. 289 

We lay at Lesly all night, 

They camped at Asloun ; 
And up we raise afore daylight, 



Before we was in battle rank, 

We was anent Mill Hill ; 
I wat fuU^ weel they gar'd us rue, 

We gat fighting our fill. 

They hunted us and dunted us, 
They drave us here and there, 

Untill three hundred of our men 
Lay gasping in their lair. 

The Earl of Mar the right wing guided, 

The colours stood him by ; 
Lord George Gordon the left wing guided. 

Who well the sword could ply. 

There came a ball shot frae the west 
That shot him through the back ; 

Although he was our enemy. 
We grieved for his wreck. 

We cannot say 'twas his own men. 

But yet it came that way ; 
In Scotland there was not a match 

To that man where lie lay. 

1 fen. 



240 THE BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS. 

THE BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS. 

Mimtrehy of the Scottish Border, ii. 203 

" The insurrection commemorated and magnified 
in the following ballad, as indeed it has been in some 
nistories, was, in itself, no very important affair. It 
began in Dumfries-shire, where Sir James Turner, a 
soldier of fortune, was employed to levy the arbitrary 
fines imposed for not attending the Episcopal churches. 
The people rose, seized his person, disarmed his sol- 
diers, and, having continued together, resolved to 
march towards Edinburgh, expecting to be joined by 
their friends in that quarter. In this they were disap- 
pointed; and, being now diminished to half their 
numbers, they drew up on the Pentland Hills, at a 
place called Rullien Green. They were commanded 
by one Wallace ; and here they awaited the approach 
of (General Dalzlel, of Binns ; who, having marched 
to Calder, to meet them on the Lanark road, and 
finding, that, by passing through Collington, they had 
got to the other side of the hills, cut through the 
mountains and approached them. Wallace showed 
both spirit and judgment: he drew up his men in a 
very strong situation, and withstood two charges of 
Dalziel's cavalry ; but, upon the third shock, the 
insurgents were broken and utterly dispersed. There 
was very little slaughter, as the cavalry of Dalziel 
were chiefly gentlemen, who pitied their oppressed 
and misguided countrymen. There were about fifty 
killed, and as many made prisoners. The battle was 



TlIK BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS. 241 

fought on the 28th November, 1606 ; a day still 
observed by the scattered remnant of the Camerouian 
s^ct, who regularly hear a field-preaching upon the 
field of battle. 

" I am obliged for a oopy of the ballad to Mv. Liv- 
ingston of Airds, who took it down from the recitation 
of an old woman residing on his estate. 

" The gallant Grahams, mentioned in the text, are 
liraham of Claverhouse's horse." Scott. 



The gallant Grahams cam from the west, 
Wi' their horses black as ony craw ; 

The Lothian lads they marched fast, 
To be at the Rhyns o' Gallowa. 

Betwixt Dumfries town and Argyle, 
The lads they marched mony a mile ; 
Souters and tailors unto them drew, 
Their covenants for to renew. 

The Whigs, they, wi' their merry cracks, 
Gar'd the poor pedlars lay down their packs ; 
But aye sinsyne they^do repent 
The renewing o' their Covenant. 

At the Mauchline muir, where they were reviewed, 
Ten thousand men in armour show'd ; 
But, ere they came to the Brockie's burn, 
The half of them did back return. 



General Dalyell, as I hear tell. 
Was our lieutenant-general ; 
VOL. VII. 16 



242 THE BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS. 

And Captain Welsh, wi* his wit and skill, 
Was to guide them on to the Pentland hill. 

General Dalyell held to the hill, 
Asking at them what was their will ; 
And who gave them this protestation, 
To rise in arms against the nation ? 

" Although we all in armour be, 
It's not against his majesty ; 
Nor yet to spill our neighbour's bluid, 
But wi' the country we'll conclude." 

" Lay down your arms, in the King's name, 
And ye shall a' gae safely hame ; " 
But they a' cried out wi' ae consent, 
" We'll fight for a broken Covenant." 

" O well," says he, " since it is so, 
A wilfu' man never wanted woe : " 
He then gave a sign unto his lads. 
And they drew up in their brigades. 

The trumpets blew, and the colours flew, 
. And every man to his armour drew ; 
The Whigs were never so much aghast. 
As to see their saddles toom sae fast. 

The cleverest men stood in the van, 
The Whigs they took their heels and ran ; 
But such a raking was never seen, 
As the raking o' the RulUen Green 



THE READING SKIRMISH. 248 



THE READING SKIRMISH. 

Several companies, principally Irish, belonging 
k) the army of King James, and stationed at Reading, 
had quitted the town in consequence of a report that 
the Prince of Orange was advancing in that direction 
with the main body of his forces. On the departure 
of the garrison, the people of Reading at once invited 
the Prince to take possession of the place, and secure 
them against the Irish. But the King's troops, having 
learned that it was only a small detachment of Wil- 
liam's soldiers, and not the main army, by whom they 
were threatened, returned and reoccupied their post. 
Here they were attacked by two hundred and fifty 
of the Dutch, and though numbering six hundred, 
were soon put to flight, with the loss of their colors and 
of fifty men, the assailants losing but five. This skir- 
mish occurred on Sunday, the 9th of December, 
1688. 

This piece is extracted from Croker's Historical 
Songs of Ireland, p. 14, Percy Society, vol. i., and 
was there given from a collection of printed ballads in 
the British Museum. The burden seems to be derived 
from the following stanza of Lilli burlero : 

** Now, now de heretics all go down, 

Lilli, cf c. 
By Clireist and St. Patrick de nation's our own, 

LiUiy 4'C. 



244 THE RKADING SKIRMISH. 

THE READING SKIRMISH; 

OR, THE BLOODY IRISH ROUTED BY THE VICTORI- 
OUS DUTCH. 

Five hundred papishes came there, 

To make a final end 
Of all the town, in time of prayer, 

But God did them defend. 

To the tune of Lilli horlero. Licensed according to 
order. Printed for J. D. in the year 1688. 

We came into brave Reading by night, 

Five hundred horsemen proper and tall ; 
Yet not resolved fairly to fight. 

But for to cut the throats of them all. 
Most of us was L-ish Papists, 

Who vowed to kill, then plunder the town ; 
We this never doubted, but soon we were routed. 

By Chreest and St. Patrick, we all go down. 

In Reading town we ne'er went to bed ; 

Every soul there mounted his horse, 
Hoping next day to fill them with dread; 

Yet I swear by St. Patrick's cross, 
We most shamefully was routed : 

Fortune was pleased to give us a frown, 
And blasted our glory : I'll tell you the story. 

By Chreest and St. Patrick we all go down.' 

We thought <-o slay them all in their sleep. 
But by my shoul, were never the near, 



THE READING SKIRMISH. 245 

The lieretleks their guard did so keep, 

Which put us in a trembling fear. 
We concluded something further, 

To seize the churches all in the town, 
Wirh killing and slaying, while they were a prajing, 

Bui we were routed, and soon run down. 

Nay, before noon, we vowed to despatch 

Every man, nay, woman and child ; 
This in our hearts we freely did hatch. 

Vowing to make a prey of the spoil. 
But we straightways was prevented, 

When we did hope for fame and renown ; 
In less than an hour we [are] forced to scoure ; 

By Chreest and St. Patrick, we are run down. 

We were resolved Reading to clear, 

Having in hand the flourishing sword ; 
The bloody sceen was soon to appear. 

For we did then but wait for the word : 
While the ministers were preaching, 

We were resolved to have at their gown ; 
But straight was surrounded, and clearly confounded, 

By Chreest and St. Patrick, we all go down. 

Just as we all were fit to fall on, 

In came the Dutch with fury and speed ; 
And amongst them there was not a man, 

But what was rarely mounted indeed ; 
And rid up as fierce as tygers, 

Knitting their brows, they on us did frown ; 
Not one of them idle, their teeth held their bridle, 

By Chreest and St. Patrick, we were run down. 



24.6 THE READING SKIRMISH. 

They never stood to use many words, 

But in all haste up to us they flocked, 
In their right hands their flourishing swords, 

And their left carbines ready cock'd. 
We were forced to fly before them, 

Thorow the lanes and streets of the town ; 
While they pursued after, and threaten'd a slaughter, 

By Chreest and St. Patrick, we were run down. 

Then being fairly put to the rout. 

Hunted and drove before 'um like dogs, 
Our captain bid us then face about, 

But we wisht for our Irish bogs. 
Having no great mind for fighting, 

The Dutch did drive us thorow the town ; 
Our foreheads we crossed, yet still was unhorsed. 

By Chreest and St. Patrick, we're all run down. 

We threw away our swords and carbines, 

Pistols and cloaks lay strow'd on the lands ; 
Cutting off* boots for running, uds-doyns. 

One pair of heels was worth two pair of hands. 
Then we called on sweet St. CoIeman,i 

Hoping he might our victory crown ; 
But Dutchmen pursuing poor Teagues to our ruin. 

By Chreest and St. Patrick, we're all run down. 

Never was Teagues in so much distress. 
As the whole world may well understand ; 

When we came here, we thought to possess 
Worthy estates of houses and land : 

1 Edward Coleman, hanged at Tyburn in 1678, for his 
participation in the I'opish Plot. — Ckoker. 



UNDAUNTED LOKDONDERRY. 247 

But -we find 'tis all a story, 

Fortune is pleased on us to frown : 
Instead of our riches, we stink in our breeches, 

By Chreest and St. Patrick, we're all run down. 

They call a thing a three-legged mare, 

Where they will fit each neck with a nooze. 
Then with our beads to say our last prayer, 

After all this to die in our shoes. 
Thence we pack to purgatory ; 

For us let all the Jesuits pray ; 
Farewell, Father Peters, here's some of your creatures 

Would have you to follow the self-same way. 



UNDAUNTED LONDONDERRY. 

The story of the siege of Londonderry, " the most 
memorable in the annals of the British isles," is elo- 
quently told in the twelfth chapter of Macaulay's 
History of England. It lasted one hundred and five 
days, from the middle of April to the first of August 
(1689). During that time the garrison nad been 
reduced from about seven thousand men to about 
three thousand. Famine and pestilence slew more 
than the tire of the enemy. In the last month of the 
siege, there was scarcely any thing left to eat in the 
city but salted hides and tallow. The price of a dog's 
paw was five shillings and sixpence, and rats that had 



248 UNDAUNTED LONDONDERRY. 

fed on the bodies of the dead were eagerly hunted 
and slain. The courage and self-devotion of the de- 
fenders, animated by a lofty public spirit and sus- 
tained by religious zeal, were at last rewarded by a 
glorious triumph, and will never cease to be cele- 
brated with pride and enthusiasm by the Protestants 
of Ireland. 

The ballad is here given as printed in Cfokers 
Historical Songs of Ireland^ p. 46, from a black letter 
copy in the l^ritish Museum. The whole title runs 
thus: Undaunted Londonderry ; or^ihe Victorious Pro- 
testants' constant success against the proud French 
and Irish Forces. To the Tune of Lilli Borlero. 

Protestant boys, both valliant and stout. 

Fear not the strength and frown of Rome, 
Thousands of them are put to the rout, 

Brave Londonderry tells 'um their doom. 
For their cannons roar like thunder, 

Being resolved the town to maintain 
For AVilliam and Mary, still brave Londonderry 

Will give the proud French and Tories their bane. 

Time after time, with powder and balls, 

Protestant souls they did 'um salute. 
That before Londonderry's stout walls 

Many are slain and taken to boot. 
Nay, their noble Duke of Berwick, i 

Many reports, is happily tane, 

1 In a sally which was made by the garrison towards 
the end of April, the Duke of Berwick is said to have received 
H sli2;lit wound in the back. 



UNDAtTNTED LONDONDERRY. 249 

Where still they confine him, and will not resign him. 
Till they have given the Tories their bane. 

Into the town their bombs they did throw, 

Being resolved to fire the same, 
Hoping thereby to lay it all low, 

Could they but raise it into a flame. 
But the polititious Walker, 1 

By an intreague did quail them again, 
And blasted the glory of French, Teague, and Tory ; 

By policy, boys, he gave them their bane. 

Thundering stones they laid on the wall, 

Ready against the enemy came. 
With which they vow'd the Tories to mawl, 

W^hene'er they dare approach but the same. 
And another sweet invention. 

The which in brief I reckon to name ; 
A sharp, bloody slaughter did soon follow after. 

Among the proud French, and gave them their bane. 

Stubble and straw in parcels they laid. 

The which they straightways kindled with speed ; 
By this intreague the French was betrayed, 

Thinking the town was fired indeed. 
Then they placed their scaling ladders, 

And o'er the walls did scour amain ; 
Yet strait, to their wonder, they were cut in sunder, 

Thus Frenchmen and Tories met with their bane. 

1 The Eev. GeorgeWalker, rector of the parish of Donagh- 
moie, the hero of the defence. His statue now stands on a 
loft\ pillar, rising from a bastion which for a long time sus- 
tained the heaviest fir*} of the besieg sfj 



250 UNDAUNTED LONDONDERRY. 

Suddenly then they opened their gate, 

Sallying forth with vigor and might ; 
And, as the truth I here may relate, 

Protestant boys did valliantly fight, 
Taking many chief commanders, 

While the sharp fray they thus did maintain, 
With vigorous courses, they routed their forces, 

And many poor Teagues did meet with their bane 

While with their blood the cause they have sealed, 

Heaven upon their actions did frown ; 
Protestants took the spoil of the field, 

Cannons full five they brought to the town. 
With a lusty, large, great mortar, ' 

Thus they returned with honor and gain, 
While Papists did scour from Protestant power, 

As fearing they all should suffer their bane. 

In a short time we hope to arrive 

With a vast army to Ireland, 
And the affairs so well we'll contrive 

That they shall ne'er have power to stand 
G^ist King William and Queen Mary, 

Who on the throne does flourish and reign ; 
We'll down with the faction that make the distraction, 

And give the proud French and Tories their bane. 



PRCELIUM GILLICRANKIANUM. 2ol 

PRCELIUM GILLICKANKIANUM. See p. 152. 

From Johnson's Museum^ p. 105. 

Grahamius notabilis coegerat montanos, 
Qui clypeis et gladiis fugarunt Anglicanos ; 
Fugerant Vallicolse, atque Purltani, 
Caeavere Batavi et Cameroniani. 
Grahamius mirabllis, fortissimus Alcides, 
Cujus regi fuerat intemerata fides, 
Agiles monticolas marte inspiravit, 
Et duplicatum numerum hostium profligavit 

Nobilis apparuit Fermilodunensis, 
Cujus in rebelles stringebatur ensis ; 
Nobilis et sanguine, nobilior virtute, 
Regi devotissimus intus et in cute. 
Pitcurius heroicus. Hector Scoticanus, 
Cui mens fidelis fuerat et invicta manus, 
Capita rebellium, is excerebravit, 
Hostes unitissimos ille dimicavit. 

Glengarius magnanimus atque bellicosus, 
Functus ut Eneas, pro rege aniraosus, 
Fortis atque strenuus, hostes expugnavit, 
Sanguine rebellium campos coloravit. 
Surrexerat fideliter Donaldus Insulanus, 
Pugnaverat viriliter, cum copiis Skyanis, 
Pater atque filii non dissimularunt, 
Sed pro rege proprio unanimes pugnarunt,. 

Macleanius, circumdatus tribo martiali,. 
Semper, devinctissimus familiae regali, 



252 PRCELICM GILLICRANKIANUJit. 

Fortiter pufrnaverat, more atavorum, 
Deinde dissipaverat turmas Batavorum. 
Strenuus Lochiellus, multo Camerone, 
Hostes ense peremh, et abrlo pugione; 
Istos et intrepidos Oreo dedicavit, 
Impedimenta hostium Blaro reportavlt. 

Macneillius de Bara, Glencous Kepoehanus, 
Ballechinus, cum fratre, Stuartus Apianus, . 
Pro Jacobo Septimo fortiter gessere, 
Pugiles fortissimi, feliciter vicere. 
Canonicus clarissimus Gallovidianus, 
Acer et indomitus, consilioque sanus, 
Ibi dux adfuerat, spectabilis persona, 
Nam pro tuenda patria, hunc peperit Bellona 

Ducalidoni dominum spreverat gradivus, 

Nobills et juvenis, fortis et activus : 

Nam cum nativum principem exulem audiret, 

Redit ex Hungana ut regi inserviret. 

lUlc et adfuprat tutor Ranaldorum, 

Qui strenue pugnaverat cum copiis virorum ; 

Et ipse Capetaneus, aetate puerill, 

Intentus est ad proelium, spiritu virili. 

Glenmoristonus junior, optimus belfcitor 
Subito jam factus, hactenus venator, 
Perduelles Whiggeos ut pecora prostravit, 
Ense et fulmineo Mackaium fugavit. 
Reglbus et legibus, Scotici constantes, 
Vos clypeis et gladiis pro principe pugnantes, 
Vestra est victoria, vestra est et gloria, 
In cantis et historia perpes est memorial 



THE BOYNE WATER. 253 



THE BOYNE WATER. 

This momentous battle was fought on the 1st of 
July, 1690. James had a strong position and thirty 
thousand men, two thirds of whom were a worthless 
rabble. William had thirty-six thousand splendid 
soldiers. The loss on neither side was great. Of 
James's troops there fell fifteen hundred, the flower 
of his army ; of the conqueror's not more than five, 
but with them the great Duke of Schomberg. The 
present version of this ballad is from Croker's His- 
torical Songs of Ireland^ p. 60, given from a MS. copy 
in the editor's possession. 

July the first, in Oldbridge town,i 

There was a grievous battle, 
Where many a man lay on the ground, 

By the cannons that did rattle. 
King James he pitched his tents between 

The lines for to retire ; 
But King William threw his bomb-balls in, 

And set them all on fire. 

Thereat enraged, they vow'd revenge, 
Upon King William's forces ; 

1 The Dutch guards first entered the river Boyne at a 
ford opposite to the little village of Oldbridge. — Croker. 



254 THE BOTNE WATER. 

And often did cry vehemently, 

That they would stop their courses. 

A bullet from the Irish came, 

Which grazed King William's arm; 

They thought his majesty was slain, 
Yet it did him little harm. 

Duke Schomberg then, in friendly care. 

His king would often caution 
To shun the spot where bullets hot 

Retain'd their rapid motion. 
But William said — " He don't deserve 

The name of Faith's defender, 
That would not venture life and limb 

To make a foe surrender." 

When we the Boyne began to cross, 

The enemy they descended ; 
But few of our brave men were lost, 

So stoutly we defended. 
The horse was the first that marched o'er, 

The foot soon followed a'ter, 
But brave Duke Schomberg was no more, 

By venturing over the water. 

When vahant Schomberg he was slain, 

King William thus accosted 
His warlike men, for to march on. 

And he would be the foremost. 
*' Brave boys," he said, " be not dismayed 

For the losing of one commander; 
For God will be our king this day. 

And ril be general under." 



THK BOYI^E WATER. 265 

Then stoutly we the Boyne did cross, 

To give our enemies battle ; 
Our cannon, to our foes great cost, 

Like thundering claps did rattle, 
In majestic mien our prince rode o'er, 

His men soon followed a'ter ; ' 
With blows and shouts put our foes to the route, 

The day we crossed the water. 

The Protestants of Drogheda 

Have reasons to be thankful, 
That they were not to bondage brought, 

They being but a handful. 
First to the Tholsel they Avere brought, 

And tied at Milmount a'ter, i 
But brave King William set them free. 

By venturing over the water. 

The cunning French, near to Duleek^ 

Had taken up their quarters, 
And fenced themselves on every side. 

Still waiting for new orders. 

1 "After the battle of the Bojme, the Popish gan-ison of 
Drogheda took the Protestants out of prison, into which they 
had thrown them, and canned them to the Mount; where 
they expected the cannon would play, if King William's 
forces besieged the town. They tied them together, and set 
them to receive the shot; but their hearts failed them wh(! 
were to defend the place, and so it pleased God to preser\ e 
the poor Protestants." — Memoirs of Ireland, ^c, cited by 
Croker. 

- "When in the course of the day, the battle approached 
James's position on the hill of Donore, the warlike pi'ince 
retired to a more secure distance at Duleek. where he soon 



256 THE BOTNE WATER. 

But in the dead time of the night, 

They set the field on fire ; 
And long before the morning light, 

To Dublin they did retire. 

Then said King William to his men, 

After the French departed, 
" I'm glad," said he, " that none of ye 

Seemed to be faint-hearted. 
So sheath your swords, and rest awhile, 

In time we'll follow a'ter : " 
These words he uttered with a smile, 

The day he crossed the water. 

Come, let us all, with heart and voice, 

Applaud our lives' defender, 
Who at the Boyne his valour shewed, 

And made his foes surrender. 
To God above the praise we'll give, 

Both now and ever a'ter. 
And bless the glorious memory 

Of King WilUam that crossed the Boyne water. 

put himself at the head of his French allies, and led the 
retreat; the King and the French coming off without a scar.'" 
— O'Driscol, cited by Croker. 



THE WOMAN WARRIOR. 257 



THE WOMAN WARRIOR, 

Who liv'd in Cow-Cross, near West-Smithfield ; who, chang- 
ing her apparel, entered herself on board in quality of a 
soldier, and sailed to Ireland, where she valiantly behaved 
herself, particularly at the siege of Cork, where she lost 
her toes, and received a mortal wound in her body of 
which she since died in her return to London. 

From Durfey's Pills to Purge Melancholy^ v. 8. 

Cork was taken September 27-29, 1690, by the 
Duke (then Earl) of Marlborough, with the coopera- 
tion of the Duke of Wirtemberg. The Duke of 
Grafton, then serving as a volunteer, was mortally 
wounded while advancing to the assault. Croker sugr- 
gests that this lamentation for the heroine of Cow- 
Cross, "the Mary Ambree of her age," was one of 
the many indirect efforts made to bring the military 
skill of Marlborough into popular notice. 

Let the females attend 

To the lines which are penn'd, 

For here I shall give a relation 
Of a young marry'd wife. 
Who did venture her life, 

For a soldier, a soldier she went from the nation. 

She her husband did leave, 
And did likewise receive 

Her arms, and on board she did enter. 
And right valiantly went, 
With a resolution bent 

To the ocean, the ocean, her life there to venture. 

VOL. VII. 17 



258 THE WOMAN WARRIOR. 

Yet of all the ship's crew, 
Not a seaman that knew 

They then had a woman so near *em ; 
On the ocean so deep 
She her council did keep, 

Ay, and therefore, and therefore she never did 
fear 'em. 

She was valiant and bold. 
And would not be controul'd 

By any that dare to offend her ; 
If a quarrel arose, 
She would give him dry blows, 

And the captain, the captain did highly commend 
her. 

For he took her to be 
Then of no mean degree, 

A gentleman's son, or a squire ; 
With a hand white and fair. 
There was none could compare. 

Which the captain, the captain did often admire. 

On the Irish shore, 

Where the cannons did roar, 

With many stout lads she was landed; 
There her life to expose. 
She lost two of her toes. 

And in battle, in battle was daily commended. 

Under Grafton she fought 
Like a brave hero stout. 
And made the proud Tories retire ; 



THE WOMAN WARRIOR. 259 

She in field did appear 
With a heart void of fear, 
And she bravely, she bravely did charge and ^ve 
fire. 

While the battering balls 
Did assault the strong walls 

Of Cork, and sweet trumpets sounded, 
She did bravely advance 
WJiere by unhappy chance 

This young female, young female, alas I she was 
wounded. 

At the end of the fray 
Still she languishing lay, 

Then over the ocean they brought her, 
To her own native shore : 
Now they ne'er knew before 

That a woman, a woman had been in that slaughter. 

^^'hat she long had conceal'd 
Now at length she reveal'd, 

That she was a woman that ventur'd ; 
Then to London with care 
She did straitways repair, 

But she dy'd, oh she dy'd, e'er the city she enter'd 

When her parents beheld, 
They with sorrow was fill'd. 

For why, they did dearly adore her ; 
[n her grave now she lies, 
'Tis not watery eyes. 

No, nor sighing, nor sighing that e'er can restore her. 



260 THE BATTLE OF SHERIE'F-MUIK. 



A DIALOGUE 

BETWEEN WILL LICK-LADLE AND TOM CLEAN- 
COGUE, TWA SHEPHERDS, WHA WERE FEEDING 
THEIR FLOCKS ON THE OCHIL-HILLS ON THE DAY 
THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MOOR WAS FOUGHT. 

(See p. 156. From Ritson's Scottish Songs, ii. 67.) 

W. Pray came you here the fight to shun, 

Or keep the sheep with me, man ? 
Or was you at the Sheriff-moor, 
And did the battle see, man V 

Pray tell whilk of the parties won ? 
For well I wat I saw them run. 
Both south and north, when they begun, 
To pell and mell, and kill and fell. 
With muskets snell, and pistols knell. 
And some to hell 

Did flee, man 

T. But, my dear Will, I kenna still, 

Whilk o' the twa did lose, man ; 
For well I wat they had good skill 
To set upo' their foes, man : 

The red-coats they are traln'd, you see. 
The clans always disdain to flee, 
Wha then should gain the victory ? 
But the Highland race, all in a brace. 
With a swift pace, to the Whigs disgrace. 
Did put to chace 

Their foes, man 



THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR. 261 

IV. Now how diel, Tam, can this be true ? 

I saw the chace gae north, man. 
T. But well I wat they did pursue 
Them even unto Forth, man. 

Frae Dumblain they ran in my own sight, 
And got o'er the bridge with all their might, 
And those at Stirling took their flight ; 
Gif only ye had been wi' me. 
You had seen them flee, of each degree, 
For fear to die 

Wi' sloth, man. 

W. My sister Kate came o'er the hill, 

Wi' crowdie unto me, man ; 
She swore she saw them running still 
Frae Perth unto Dundee, man. 
The left wing gen'ral had na skill. 
The Anojus lads had no good will 
That day their neighbours blood to spill ; 
For fear by foes that they should lose 
Their cogues of brose, all crying woes — 
Yonder them goes, 

D*ye see, man ? 

T. I see but few like gentlemen 
Amang yon frighted crew, man ; 
fear my Lord Panmure be slain, 
Or that he's ta'en just now, man .. 
For tho' his ofiicers obey, ' 

His cowardly commons run away, 
For fear the red-coats them should slay ; 
The sodgers hail make their hearts fail ; 



262 THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR. 

See how they scale, and turn their tail, 
And rin to flail 

And plow, man. 

W. But now brave Angus comes again 

Into the second fight, man ; 
They swear they'll either dye or gain, 
No foes shall them afii'ight, man : 

Argyle's best forces they'll withstand, 
And boldly fight them sword in hand. 
Give them a general to command, 
A man of might, that will but fight, 
And take delight to lead them right. 
And ne'er desire 

The flight, man. 

But Flandrekins^ they have no skill 

To lead a Scotish force, man ; 
Their motions do our courage spill. 
And put us to a loss, man. 

You'll hear of us far better news, 
When we attack hke Highland trews. 
To hash, and slash, and smash and bruise, 
Till the field, tho' braid, be all o'erspread, 
But coat or plaid, wi' coi^pse that's dead 
In their cold bed. 

That's moss, maa 

T Twa gen'rals frae the field did run. 
Lords Huntley and Seaforth, man ; 

1 By Flanderkins are meant Lieutenant-General Fander- 
beck and Colonels Rantzaw and Cromstrora.— Hogg. 



THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR. 2t>3 

Tliey cry'd and run grim death to shun, 
Those heroes of the North, man ; 
They're fitter far for book or pen, 
Than under Mars to lead on men ; 
Ere they came there they might well ken 
That female hands could ne'er gain lands ; 
'Tis Highland brands that countermands 
Argathlean bands 

Frae Forth, man. 

W The Camerons scow'r'd as they were mad, 

Lifting their neighbours cows, man, 
M'Kenzie and the Stewart fled, 
Without phil'beg or trews, man : 

Had they behav'd Uke Donald's core, 
And kill'd all those came them before, 
Their king had gone to France no more : 
Then each Whig saint wad soon repent, 
And strait recant his covenant. 
And rent 



T. M'Gregors they far off did stand, 

Badenach and Athol too, man ; 
I hear they wanted the command, 
For I believe them true, man. 

Perth, Fife, and Angus, wi' their horse, 
Stood motionless, and some did worse, 
For, tho' the red-coats went them cross, 
They did conspire for to admire 
Clans run and fire, left wings retire, 
While rights intire 

Pursue, naan. iw 



2G4 UP AND WAR THEM A', WILLIE. 

W. But Scotland has not much to say, 

For such a fight as this is, 
Where baith did fight, baith run away ; 
The devil take the miss is 

That every officer was not slain 
That run that day, and was not ta'en, 
Either flying from or to Dumblain ; 
When Whig and Tory, in their 'fury,* 
Strove for glory, to our sorrow, 
The sad story 



Hush is. 



UP AND WAR THEM A', WHXIE. See p. 156» 

From Herd's Scotish Songs, ii. 234. The same in 
Ritson's ScotisJi Songs, ii. 73. Burns furnished a 
somewhat different version to Johnson's Museum 
(p. 195, also in Cromek's Select ScotisJi Songs, ii. 29), 
vvhich he obtained from one Tom Neil, a carpenter in 
Edinburgh, who was famous for his singing of Scottish 
songs. The title and burden to this version is Up 
y%nd warn a', fVillie, an allusion, says Burns, to the 
crantara, or warning of a Highland c]an to arms, 
which the Lowlanders, not understanding, have cor- 
rupted. There is another copy in Hogg's Jacobite 
Relics, ii. 18, which is nearly the same as the fol- 
lowing. 

When the Earl of Mar first raised his standard, 
and proclaimed the Chevalier, the ornamental ball on 
the top of the staff fell off, and the superstitious High- 



UP AND WAR THEM A', WILLIE. 265 

landers interpreted the circumstance as ominous of ill 
for their cause. This is the incident referred to in 
the third stanza. 

When we went to the field of war, 
And to the weapon-shaw, Willie, 
With true design to stand our ground, 

And chace our faes awa', Willie, 

Lairds and lords came there bedeen, 

And vow gin they were pra', Willie : 

Up and war 'em a', Willie, 

War 'em, war *em a\ Willie. 

And when our army was drawn up, 

The bravest e'er I saw, Willie, 
We did not doubt to rax the rout. 

And win the day and a', Willie ; 
Pipers play'd frae right to left, 

" Fy, fourugh Whigs awa'," Willie. 
Up and war, ^c. 

But when our standard was set up, 
So fierce the wind did bla', Willie, 

The golden knop down from the top 
Unto ground did fa', Willie : 

Then second-sighted Sandy said, 
" We'll do nae good at a', Willie.** 
Up and loar, Sfc. 

When bra'ly they attack'd our left. 
Our front, and flank, and a', ^Villie, 

Our bald commander on the green, 
Our faes their left did ca', Willie, 



206 UP AND WAR THEM a', WILLIE. 

And mere the greatest slaughter made 
That e'er poor Ton aid saw, Willie. 
Up and war, 8fc. 

First when they saw our Highland mob. 
They swore they'd slay us a', Willie ; 

And yet ane fyl'd his breiks for fear, 
And so did rin awa', Willie : 

We drave him back to Bonnybrigs, 
Dragoons, and foot, and a', Willie. 
Up and war, 8fc. 

But when their gen'ral view'd our lines, 
And them in order saw, Willie, 

He straight did march into the town. 
And back his left did draw, Willie: 

Thus we taught them the better gate, 
To get a better fa', Willie. 
Up and war, Sfc. 

And then we rally'd on the hills. 

And bravely up did draw, Willie ; 
But gin ye spear wha wan the day, 

I'll tell you what I saw, Willie : 
We baith did fight, and baith were beat. 

And baith did run awa', Willie. 
So there's my canty Highland sang 

About the thing I saw, Willie. 



THE MAKQUIS OF HUNTLEY's RETREAT. 267 



THE MARQUIS OF HUNTLEY'S RETREAT 
FROM THE BATTLE OF SHERIFFMUIR. 

See p. 156. From A New Book of Old Ballads, p. 30. 

Hogg Inserted tins ballad in tbe Jacobite Relics^ 
n. 13, using, says Maidment, the editor of the publi- 
cation cited above, a very imperfect manuscript copy. 
The following version w^as taken from the original 
broad-side, supposed to be unique. There are very 
considerable variations In the language of the two 
copies, and the order of the stanzas is quite different. 
This says Hogg, " is exclusively a party song, made 
by some of the Grants, or their adherents. In obloquy 
of their more potent neighbours, the Gordons. It is 
in a great measure unti-ue ; for, though the Marquis 
of Huntley was on the left wing at the head of a body 
of horse, and among the gentlemen that fled, yet two 
battalions of Gordons, or at least of Gordon's vassals, 
perhaps mostly of the Clan Chattan, behaved them- 
selves as well as any on the field, and were particularly 
instrumental in breaking the Whig cavalry, or the 
left wing of their army, and driving them back among 
their foot. On this account, as well as that of the 
bitter personalities that it contains, the " song Is only 
curious as an Inveterate party song, and not as a 
genuine humorous description of the fight that the 
Marquis ap4 his friends were \^. The latter part of 



268 THE MARQUIS OF HUNTLET's RETREAT. 

the [third] stanza seems to allude to an engagement 
that took place at Dollar, on the 24th October, a fort- 
night previous to the battle of Sheriffmuir. Mar 
had despatched a small body of cavalry to force an 
assessment from the town of Dunfermline, of which 
Argyle getting notice, sent out a stronger party, who 
surprised them early in the morning before daylight, 
and arrested them, killing some and taking seventeen 
prisoners, several of whom were Gordons. The last 
stanza [but one] evidently alludes to the final sub- 
mission of the Marquis and the rest of the Gordons to 
King George's government, which they did to the 
Grants and the Earl of Sutherland. The former had 
previously taken possession of Castle Gordon; of 
course, the malicious bard of the Grants, with his ill- 
scraped pen, was not to let that instance of the humil- 
iation of his illustrious neighbours pass unnoticed. — 
Jacobite Relics, vol. ii. p. 255. 

From Bogie side to Bogie Gight, 

The Gordons all conveen'd, man. 
With all their might, to battle wight, ^ 

Together closes they join'd man, 
To set their king upon the throne, 
And to protect the church, man ; 
But fy for shame ! they soon ran hame, 
And left him in the lurch, man. 
Vow as the Marquis ran^ 

Coming from Vumhlane, man! 
Strahogie did b — t itself, 
And Enzie was not clean, man. 

1 weight. 2 tloss. 



THE MARQUIS OF HUNTLET's RETREAT, 269 

Their chieftain was a man of fame, 

And doughty deeds had wrought, man, 
Which future ages still shall name. 

And tell how well he fought, man. 
For when the battle did begin. 

Immediately his Grace, man, 
Put spurs to Florance,! and so ran 

By all, and wan the race, man. 
Vow, S^-c. 

The Marquis* horse was first sent forth, 

Glenbucket's foot to back them. 
To give a proof what they were worth, 

If rebels durst attack them. 
With loud huzzas to Huntly's praise. 

They near'd Dumfermling Green, man. 
But fifty horse, and de'il ane mair, 

Turn'd many a Highland clan, man. 
Vow, S;c. 

The second chieftain of that clan, 

For fear that he should die, man. 
To gain the honour of his name, 

Rais'd first the mutinie, man. 
And then he wrote unto his Grace, 

The great Duke of Argyle, man. 
And swore, if he would grant him peace, 

The Tories he'd beguile, man. 
Vow, Sec. 



1 His horse, so called from havmg been a present from the 
Grand Duke of Tuscany. — M. 



270 THE MARQUIS OF HUNTLET's RETREAT* 

The Master 1 with thebulHe's face, 

And with the coward's heart, man, 
Who never fails, to his disgrace. 

To act a traitor's part, man, 
lie join'd Drumboig, the greatest knave 

In all the shire of Fife, man. 
He was the first the cause did leave, 

By council of his wife, man. 
Vow, Sfc. 

A member of the tricking trade, 

An Ogilvie by name, man, 
Consulter of the grumbling club, 

To his eternal shame, man. 
Who would have thought, when he came out, 

That ever he would fail, man ? 
And like a fool, did eat the cow, 

And worried on the tail, man. 
Vow, Sfc. 

Meflfan Smith, 2 at Sheriff Muir, 
Gart folk believe he fought, man ; 

But well it's known, that all he did, 
That day it serv'd for nought, man. 

For towards night, when Mar march'd off, 
Smith was put in the rere, man ; 

1 Master of Sinclair, whose Court-Mai'tial has been printed 
with an exceedingly interesting preface by Sir Walter Scoct, 
as his contribution to the Roxburghe Club. 

2 David Smith was then proprietor of Methven, an estate 
in Perthshire. He died in 1735. Douglas, in his Baronage, 
terms him, " a man of good parts, great sagacity, and econ- 
omy." — M. 



THE MARQUIS OF HUNTLl!.r'S RETREAT. 271 

He curs'd, lie swore, he baul[le]d out, 
He would not stay for fear, man. 
Vow, Sfc. 

But at the first he seem'd to be 

A man of good renown, man ; 
But when the grumbling work began, 

He prov'd an arrant lown, man. 
Against Mar, and a royal war, 

A letter he did forge, man ; 
Against his Prince, he wrote nonsense, 

And swore by Royal George,^ man. 
Vow, Sfc. 

At Poineth boat, Mr. Francis Stewart,^ 

A valiant hero stood, man, 
In acting of a royal part. 

Cause of the royal blood, man. 
But when at Sheriff Moor he found 

That bolting w ould not do it. 
He, brother like, did quite his ground, 

And ne're came back unto it. 
Vow, Sfc. 

Brunstane said it was not fear 
That made him stay behind, man ; 

But that he had resolv'd that day 
To sleep in a whole skin, man. 

1 Altered in MS. to " German George." — M. 

2 Brother to Charles, 5th Earl of Moray. Upon his 
brother's death, 7th October, 1735, he became the 6th Earl. 
He died in the 66th year of his age, on the 11th December, 
V739. — M. 



272 THE MARQUIS OF HUNTLEY's RETREAT, 

The gout, he said, made him take [bed], 

AVhen battle first began, man ; 
But when he heard his Marquis fled, 

He took his heels and ran, man. 
Vow, Sfc. 

Sir James of Park, he left his horse 

In the middle of a wall, man ; 
And durst not stay to take him out, 

For fear a knight should fall, man ; 
And Maien he let such a crack. 

And shewed a pantick fear, man ; 
And Craigieheads swore he was shot, 

And curs'd the chance of wear, man. 
Vow, S^c. 

When they march'd on the Sheriff Moor, 

With courage stout and keen, man ; 
Who would have thought the Gordons gay 

That day should quite the green, man ? 
Auchleacher and Auchanachie, 

And all the Gordon tribe, man. 
Like their great Marquis, they could not 

The smell of powder bide, man. 
Vow, Sfc. 

Glenbuicket cryed, " Plague on you all, 
For Gordons do no good, man ; 

For all that fled this day, it is 
Them of the Seaton blood, man." 

Clashtirim said it was not so. 

And that he'd make appear, man ; 



THE MARQUIS OF HUNTLEY's RETREAT. 273 

For lie, a Seaton, stood that day, 
AVlien Gordons ran for fear, man. 
VoWy Sfc, 

The Gordons they are kittle flaws, 

They'll fight with heaii; and hand, man ; 
AVTien they met in Strathbogie raws 

On Thursday afternoon, man ; 
But when the Grants came doun the brae, 

Their Enzie shook for fear, man ; 
And all the lairds rode up themselves, 

With horse and riding gear, man. 
Vow^ Src. 

Cluny 2 plays his game of chess. 

As sure as any tiling, man ; 
And like the royal Gordons race. 

Gave check unto the king, man. 
Without a queen, its clearly seen. 

This game cannot recover ; 
I'd do my best, then in great haste 

Play up the rook Hanover. 
Vow, Sj-c. 

1 This seems rather Gordon of Cluny than Cluny Mac- 
pherson. The estate of Cluny has passed from the ancient 
race, though still possessed by a Gordon. — M. 



TOL. VII. 18 



274 JOHNIE COPE.. 



JOHNIE COPE. See p. 168. 

Johnson's Museum (1853), vol. iv. p. 220, Ritson's tkottuh 
ii. 84. 



Cope sent a challenge frae Dunbar, 
" Charlie meet me, an ye daur, 
And I'll learn you the airt of war. 

If you'll meet wi' me in the morning." 
Hey, Johnie Cope ! are ye waking yet f 
Or are your drums a-heaiing yet ? 
If ye were waking^ I would wait 
To gang to the coals V the morning. 

When Charlie looked the letter upon, 
He drew his sword the scabbard from, 
" Come, follow me, my merry men, 

And we'll meet Johnie Cope i' the morning." 
Hey, Johnie Cope ! Sfc. 

" Now, Johnie, be as good as your word, 
Come let us try baith fire and sword. 
And dinna flee like a frighted bird, 

That's chased frae its nest i' the morning." 
Hey, Johnie Cope! Sfc. 

When Johnie Cope he heard of this, 
He thought it wadna be amiss 
To hae a horse in readiness, 
To flee awa i' the morning. 
Hey, Johnie Cope ! S^c. 



JOHNIE COPE. 275 

" Fye now, Johnle, get up and rin, 
The Highland bagpipes mak a din ; 
It's best to sleep in a hale skin, 
For 'twill be a bluddle morning." 
Hey, Johnie Cope ! S^^c, 

WhQu Johnie Cope to Dunbar came 
They spear'd at him, " AVbere's a' your men ? " 
*' The deil confound me gin I ken, 
For I left them a' i' the morning." 
Hey, Johnie Cope I ^'C. 

" Now Johnie, troth, ye were na blate 
To come wi' the news o* your ain defeat, 
And leave your men in sic a strait, 
So early in the morning." 
Hey, Johnie Cope I Sfc. 

" In faith," quo Johnie, " I got sic flegs 
Wi' their claymores and filabegs, 
If I face them [again], dell break my legs, 
So I Avish you a' good morning.** 
Hey, Johnie Cope I Sfc, 



276 KING LEIR AND HIS 



KING LEIR AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS. 

IE'rom a Collection of Old Ballads, ii. 8. The 
same, with one or two trifling verbal differences, in 
Percy's Reliques, i. 246. 

This story was originally told by Geoffrey of Mon- 
mouth, Historla Britonum, lib. ii. c. 2. It occurs in 
two forms in the Gesta Romanorum: see Madden's 
Old English Versions, p. 44, p. 450. 

Shakespeare's King Lear was first printed in 1608, 
and is supposed to have been written between 1603 
and 1605. Another drama on the .subject was printed 
in 1605, called The true Chronicle History of King 
Leir and his Three Daughters, Gonorill, Ragan, and 
Cordelia. This was probably only a new impression 
of a piece entered in the Stationers' Registers as early 
as 1594. The ballad which follows agrees with 
Shakespeare's play in several particulars in which 
Shakespeare varies from the older drama and from 
Hollnshed, the authority of both dramas. The name 
Cordelia is also found in place of the Cordelia of the 
Chronicle History ; but, on the other hand, we have 
Ragan instead of Shakespeare's Regan. In the ab- 
sence of a date, we are unable to determine whether 
the ballad was written prior to the play of King Lear, 
or was founded upon it. 

King Leir once ruled in this land 

With princely power and peace, 
And had all things, with hearts content, 

That might his joys increase. 
Amongst those things that nature gave, 



THREE DAUGHTERS. 27> 

Three daughters fair had he, 
So princely seeming beautiful, 
As fairer could not be. 

So on a time it pleas'd the king 

A question thus to move, 
Which of his daughters to his grace 

Could shew the dearest love : 
" For to my age you bring content,'* 

Quoth he, " then let me hear, 
Which of you three in plighted troth 

The kindest will appear.** 

To whom the eldest thus began : 

" Dear father, mind,'* quoth she, 
" Before your face, to do you good. 

My blood shall rendred be. 
And for your sake my bleeding heart 

Shall here be cut in twain. 
Ere that I see your reverend age 

The smallest grief sustain.'* 

"And so will I," the second said ; 

" Dear father, for your sake, 
The worst of all extremities 

I'll gently undertake : 
And serve your highness night and day 

With diligence and love ; 
That sweet content and quietness 

Discomforts may remove.'* 

** In doing so, you glad my soul,** 
The aged king reply'd ; 



278 KING LEIR AND HIS 

« But what say'st thou, my youngest girl ? 

How is thy love ally'd ? " 
*' My love," quoth young Cordelia then, 

" Which to your grace I owe, 
Shall be the duty of a child, 

And that is all I'll show." 

"And wilt thou shew no more," quoth he, 

" Than doth thy duty bind ? 
I well perceive thy love is small, 

When as no more I find. 
Henceforth I banish thee my court ; 

Thou art no child of mine ; 
Nor any part of this my realm 

By favour shall be thine. 

" Thy elder sisters' loves are more 

Than well I can demand ; 
To whom I equally bestow 

My kingdom and my land. 
My pompous state and all my goods, 

That lovingly I may 
With those thy sisters be maintain'd 

Until my dying day." 

Thus flattering speeches won renown, 

By these two sisters here ; 
The third had causeless banishment, 

Yet was her love more dear. 
For poor Cordelia patiently 

Went wandring up and down, 
Unhelp'd, unpitied, gentle maid, 

Through many an English town. 



THREE DAUGHTERS. 279 

Until at last in famous France 

She gentler fortunes found ; 
Though poor and bare, yet she was deem'd 

The fairest on the ground : 
Where when the king her virtues heard, 

And this fair lady seen, 
With full consent of aU his court 

He made his wife and queen. 

Her father, old King Leir, this -while 

With his two daughters staid ; 
Forgetful of their promis'd loves, 

Full soon the same decay'di ; 
And living in Queen Ragan's court, 

The eldest of the twain, 
She took froih him his chiefest means, 

And most of all his train. 

For whereas twenty men were wont 

To wait with bended knee. 
She gave allowance but to ten, 

And after scarce to three, 
Nay, one she thought too much for him ; 

So took she aU away. 
In hope that in her court, good king, 

He would no longer stay. 

*'Am I rewarded thus," quoth he, 

" In giving all I have 
Unto my children, and to beg 

For what I lately gave ? 
I'll go unto my Gonorel : 

1 deny'd. 



280 KING LEIR AND HIS 

My second cMld, I know, 

Will be more kind and pitiful, 

And -will relieve my woe." 

Full fast he hies then to her court ; 

Where, when she hears his moan, 
Return'd him answer, that she griev*d 

That all his means were gone ; 
But no way could relieve his wants ; 

Yet if that he would stay 
Within her kitchen, he should have 

What scullions gave away. 

When he had heard, with bitter tears, 

He made his answer then ; 
" In what I did, let me be made 

Example to all men. 
I will return again," quoth he, 

" Unto my Ragan's court ; 
She will not use me thus, I hope, 

But in a kinder sort." 

Where when he came, she gave command 

To drive him thence away : 
When he was well within her court, 

She said, he would not stay. 
Then back again to Gonorell 

The woeful king did hie. 
That in her kitchen he might have 

What scullion boys set by. 

But there of that he was deny*d 
Which she had promis'd late: 



THREE DAUGHTERS. 281 

For once refusing, he should not 

Come after to her gate. 
Thus twixt his daughters for relief 

He wandred up and down, 
Being glad to feed on beggars food, 

That lately wore a crown. 

And calling to remembrance then 

His youngest daughter's words, 
That said, the duty of a child 

Was all that love affords — 
But doubting to repair to her, 

Whom he had banish'd so. 
Grew frantick mad ; for in his mind 

He bore the wounds of woe. 

Which made him rend his milk-white locks 

And tresses from his head. 
And all with blood bestain his cheeks, 

With age and honour spread. 
To hills and woods and watry founts 

He made his hourly moan. 
Till hills and woods and senseless things 

Did seem to sigh and groan. 

Ev'n thus posses'd with discontents, 

He passed o'er to France, 
In hopes from fair Cordelia there 

To find some gentler chance. 
Most virtuous dame ! which, when she heard 

Of this her father's grief, 
As duty bound, she (juickly sent 

Him comfort and relief 



282 KING LEIR AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS. 

And by a train of noble peers, 

In brave and gallant sort, 
She gave in charge he should be brought 

To Aganippus' court ; 
Whose royal king, with noble mind,i 

So freely gave consent 
To muster up his knights at arms, 

To fame and courage bent. 

And so to England came with speed, 

To repossess King Leir, 
And drive his daughters from their thrones 

By his Cordelia dear. 
Where she, true-hearted, noble queen. 

Was in the battel slain ; 
Yet he, good king, in his old days, 

Possess'd his crown again. 

But when he heard Cordelia's death, 

Who died indeed for love 
Of her dear father, in whose cause 

She did this battel move. 
He swooning fell upon her breast. 

From whence he never parted ; 
But on her bosom left his life 

That was so truly hearted. 

The lords and nobles, when they saw 

The end of these events. 
The other sisters unto death 

They doomed by consents ; 

1 whose noble. 



FAIR ROSAMOND. 283 

And being dead, their crowns they left 

Unto the next of kin : 
Thus have you seen the fall of pride, 

And disobedient sin. 



FAIR ROSAMOND. 

The celebrated mistress of Henry the Second was 
daughter to Walter ClifTord, a baron of Herefordshire. 
She bore the king two sons, one of them while he was 
still Duke of Normandy. Before her death she 
retired to the convent of Godstow, and there she was 
buried ; but Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln, not courtly 
enough to distinguish between royal and vulgar im- 
moralities, caused her body to be removed, and 
interred in the common cemetery, "lest Christian 
religion should grow in contempt." 

The story of Queen Eleanor's poisoning her rival 
is not confirmed by the old writers, though they men- 
tion the labyrinth. All the romance in Rosamond's 
history appears to be the offspring of popular fancy. 
Percy has collected the principal passages from the 
chronicles in his preface to' the ballad. 

Fair Rosamond is the work of Thomas Deloney, a 
well-known ballad-maker who died about 1600. Our 
copy is the earliest that is known, and is taken from 
Deloney's Strange Histories^ ed. of 1607, as reprinted 
by the Percy Society, vol. iii. p. 54. The same is 
found in the Crown Garland of Golden Roses, ed. 
1659 (Per. Soc. vol. vi. p. 12), and in the Garland 
of Good Will,ed. 1678 (Per. Soc. voL xxx. p. 1.) : 



284 FAIR ROSAMOND. 

and besides, with trifling variations, in A Collection 
of Old Ballads, i. 11, Percy's Reliques, ii. 151, and 
Ritson's Ancient Songs, ii. 120, from black-letter 
copies. 

Another ballad with the title of the Unfortunate 
Concubine J or, Rosamond's Overthrow, is given in the 
collection of 1723, vol. i. p. 1. The story is also 
treated in the forty-first chapter of Warner's Albion's 
England. Warner has at least one good stanza,^ 
which is more than can be said of this wretched, but 
very popular, production. 

Some corrections have been adopted from the 
Crown Garland of Golden Roses. 

When as King Henrie rul'd this land. 

The second of that name. 
Beside the Queene, he dearly loved 

A faire and princely dame. 
Most peerelesse was her beautie found, 

Her favour, and her face ; 
A sweeter creature in this world 

Did never prince imbrace. 

Her crisped locks like threades of gold 

Appeared to each mans sight ; 
Her comely eyes, like orient pearles, 

Did cast a heavenly light. 
Tlie blood within her cristall cheekes 

Did such a cullour drive, 

1. With that she dasht her on the lips, 
So dy6d double red; 
Hard was the lieart that gave the blow, 
Soft were those lips that bled. 



FAIR ROSAMOND. 285 

As thougL the lilly and the rose 
For maistership did strive. 

Yea Rosamond, fair Rosamond, 

Her name was called so, 
To -whome dame Elinor, our queene, 

Was knowne a cruell foe. 
The king therefore, for her defence 

Against the furious queene, 
At Woodstocke buylded such a bower, 

The like was never scene. 

Most curiously that jDower was buylt, 

Of stone and timber strong; 
A hundred and fiftie doores 

Did to that bower belong : 
And they so cunningly contriv'd, 

With turning round about. 
That none but by a clew of thread 

Could enter in or out. 

And for his love and ladyes sake, 

That was so fair and bright. 
The keeping of this bower he gave 

Unto a valiant knight. 
But fortune, that doth often frowne 

Where she before did smile. 
The kinges delight, the ladyes joy 

Full soone she did beguile. 

For why, the kings ungracious sonne. 

Whom he did high advance. 
Against his father raised warres 



286 FAIR ROSAMOND. 

Within the realme of France. 
But yet before our comely king 

The English land forsooke, 
Of Rosamond, his ladye faire, 

His farewell thus he tooke : 

" My Rosamond, my onely Rose, 

That pleaseth best mine eye, 
The fairest Rose in all the world 

To feed my fantasie, — 
" The flower of my affected heart, 

Whose sweetness doth excell, 
My royall Rose, a hundred times 

I bid thee now farewell ! 

" For I must leave my fairest flower, 

My sweetest Rose, a space. 
And crosse the seas to famous France, 

Proude rebels to abace. 
" But yet, my Rose, be sure thou shalt 

My comming shortly see, 
And in my heart, while hence I am, 

lie beare my Rose with mee." 

When Rosamond, that lady bright, 

Did heare the king say so, 
The sorrow of her greeved heart 

Her outward lookes did show. 
And from her cleare and cristall eyes 

The teares gusht out apace, 
Which, like the silver-pearled deaw. 

Ran downe her comely face. 



FAIR ROSAMOND. 287 

Her lippes, like to a corrall red, 

Did waxe both wan and pale, 
And for tlie sorrow she conceived 

Her vitall spirits did fayle. 
And falling downe all in a swound^ 

Before King Henries face, 
Full oft betweene his princelv armes 

Her corpes he did imbrace. 

And twenty times, with waterie eyes, 

He kist her tender cheeke, 
Untill she had received- againe 

Her senses milde and meeke. 
" Why grieves my Rose, my sweetest Rose ? " 

The king did ever say : 
" Because," q^ioth she, " to bloody warres 

My lord must part away. 

" But sithe your Grace in forraine coastes, 

Among your foes unkind, 
Must go to hazard life and limme, 

Why should I stay behind ? 
" Nay, rather let me, like a page, 

Your sword and target^ be are ; 
That on my breast the blow may light, 

Which should annoy you there. 

" O let me, in your royall tent, 

Prepare your bed at night, 
And with sweet baths refresh your grace, 

1 sound. 2 hehad reviv'd.— C G, 

3 shield: sword, Garl G. W. 



288 FAIR ROSAMOND. 

At your returne from fight. 
" So I your presence may enjoy, 

No toyle I will refuse^ ; 
But wanting you, my life is death: 

Which doth true love abuse.** 

" Content thy selfe, my dearest friend, 

Thy rest at home shall bee, 
In Englands' - sweete and pleasant soyle ; 

For travaile fits not thee. 
" Faire ladyes brooke not bloody warres : 

Sweete peace their pleasures breede, 
The nourisher of hearts content, 

Which fancie first doth feede. 

"My Rose shall rest in Woodstocke bower, 

With musickes sweete delight. 
While I among the pierceing pikes 

Against my foes do fight. 
" My Rose in robes of pearl and gold,^ 

With diamonds richly dight, 
Shall daunce the galliards of my love. 

While I my foes do smite. 

"And you, Sir Thomas, whom I trust 

To be * my loves defence, 
Be carefull of my gallant Rose 

When I am parted hence." 
And therewithal! he fetcht a sigh, 



1 must refuse. 2 Englaand. 

3 robes and pearls of gold, 
beare. 



FAIR ROSAMOND. 289 

As tlioiigli his heart would breake : 
And Rosamond, for inward griefe, 
Not one plaine word could speake. 

And at their parting well they might 

In heart be grieved sore : 
After that day, faire Rosamond 

The King did see no more. 
For when his Grace had past the seas, 

And into France was gone, 
Queene Elinor, with envious heart, 

To Woodstocke came anone. 

And foorth she cald this trusty knight 

Which kept the curious bower, 
Who, with his clew of twined threed, 

Came from that famous flower. 
And when that they had wounded him, 

The queene his threed did get. 
And went where lady Rosamond 

Was like an angell set. 

And when the queene with stedfast eye 

Beheld her heavenly face, 
She was amazed in her minde 

At her exceeding grace. 
" Cast off from thee thy robes," she sayd, 

" That rich and costly be ; 
And ilrinke thou up this deadly draught, 

Which I have brought for thee." 

But presently upon her knees 
Sweet Rosajnond did fall ; 

VOL. VIT. 19 



290 FAIK ROSAMOND. 

And pardon of the qiieene she crav'd 

For her offences all. 
" Take pittie on my youthful! yeares,** 

Faire Rosamond did cry ; 
"And let me not with poyson strong 

Inforced be to die. 

" I will renounce this sinful! life, 

And in a cloyster bide ; 
Or else be banisht, if you please, 

To range the world so wide. 
"And for the fault which I have done, 

Though I was forst thereto. 
Preserve my life, and punish me 

As you thinke good to do." 

And with these words, her lilly hands 

She wrang full often there ; 
And downe along her lovely cheekes 

Proceeded many a teare. 
But nothing could this furious queeno 

Therewith appeased bee ; 
The cup of deadly poyson filld. 

As she sat on her knee, 

She gave the comely dame to drinke ; 

Who tooke it in her hand, 
And from her bended knee arose. 

And on her feet did stand. 
And casting up her eyes to heaven, 

She did for mercy call ; 
And drinking up the poyson then, 

Her life she lost withal!. 



FAIR ROSAMOND. 291 

And when that death through every llm 

Had done his greatest spite, 
Her chiefest foes did plaine confesse 

She was a glorious wight. 
Her body then they did intombe, 

When life was fled away, 
At Godstow, neere [to] Oxford towne, 

As may be seene this day. 



QUEEN ELEANOR'S FALL. 

A Collection of Old Ballads, I 97. 

•* I NEVER was more surprised," says the editor of 
the Collection of 1 723, " than at the sight of the fol- 
lowing ballad ; little expecting to see pride and wick- 
edness laid to the charge of the most affable and most 
virtuous of women : whose glorious actions are not 
recorded by our historians only; for no foreign writers, 
who have touched upon those early times, have in 
silence passed over this illustrious princess, and every 
nation rings with the praise of Eleonora Isabella of 
Castile, King Edward's Queen. Father Le Monie, who 
(in his Gallerie des Femnies Fortes) has searched all 
Christendom round, from its very infancy to the last 
age, for five heroines, very partially bestows the first 
place upon one of his own country-women, but gives 
the second, with a far superior character, to this 
queen.** 

In this absurdly false and ignorant production, the 
^ell-belored Eleonora of Castile is no doubt con- 



292 QUEEN ELEANOR'S FALL. 

founded with her most unpopular mother-in-law, 
Eleanor of Provence, the wife of Henry the Third, 
whose luxurious habits, and quarrels with the city ol 
London, might afford some shadow of a basis for the 
impossible slanders of the ballad-singer. Queenhithe 
was a quay, the tolls of which formed part of the 
revenue of the Queen, and Eleanor of Provence 
rendered herself extremely odious by compelling ves- 
sels, for the sake of her fees, to unlade there. Charing- 
cross was one of thirteen monuments raised by Ed- 
ward the First at the stages, where his queen's body 
rested, on its progress from the place of her decease 
to Westminster. In the connection of both these 
places with the name of a Queen Eleanor may be 
found (as JSIiss Strickland suggests in her Lives of the 
Queens) the germ of the marvellous story of the dis- 
appearance at Charing-cross and the resurrection at 
Queenhithe. 

That portion of the story which relates to the 
cruelty exercised by the queen towards the Lord 
Mayor's wife is borrowed from the Gesta Romanorum. 
See Madden's Old English Versions, &c. p. 226, Olini- 
pus the Emperour. Peele's Chronicle History of Ed- 
ward the First exhibits the same misrepresentations of 
Eleanor of Castile. See what is said of this play in 
connection with the ballad of Queen Eleanor's Con- 
fession, vol. vi. p. 209. The whole title of the ballad 
is: — 

A AVarning Piece to England against Pride and 
Wickedness : 

Peing the Fall of Queen Eleanor, Wife to Edward the First, 
King of England; who, for her pride, by God's Judgments, 
sunk into thr '"'round at Charing-cross and rose at Queen- 
hithe. 



QUEEN ELEANOK's FALL. 293 

When Edward was In England king, 

The first of all that name, 
Proud Ellinor he made his queen, 

A stately Spanish dame : 
Whose wicked life, and sinful pride, 

Thro' England did excel : 
To dainty dames, and gallant maids. 

This queen was known full well. 

She was the first that did invent 

In coaches brave to ride ; 
She was the first that brought this land 

To deadly sin of pride. 
No English taylor here could serve 

To make her rich attire ; 
But sent for taylors into Spain, 

To feed her vain desire. 

They brought in fashions strange and low, 

With golden garments bright ; 
The farthingale, and mighty rufi*. 

With gowns of rich delight : 
The London dames. In Spanish pride, 

Did flourish every where ; 
Our English men, like women then, 

Did wear long locks of hair. 

Both man and child, both maid and wife, 

Were drown'd in pride of Spain : 
And thought the Spanish taylors then 

Our English men did stain : 
Whereat the queen did much despite, 

To see our Eno;lIsh men 



294 QUEEN Eleanor's fall. 

In vestures clad, as brave to see 
As any Spaniard then. 

She crav'd the king, that ev'ry man 

That wore long locks of hair, 
Might then be cut and polled all, 

Or shaved very near. 
Whereat the king did seem content, 

And soon thereto agreed ; 
And first commanded, that his own 

Should then be cut with speed : 

And after that, to please his queen, 

Proclaimed thro' the land. 
That ev'ry man that wore long hair 

Should poll him out of hand. 
But yet this Spaniard, not content, 

To women bore a spite. 
And then requested of the king, 

Against all law and right, 

That ev'ry womankind should have 

Their right breast cut away ; 
And then with burning irons sear'd, 

The blood to stanch and stay I 
King Edward then, perceiving well 

Her spite to womankind, 
Devised soon by policy 

To turn her bloody mind. 

He sent for burning Irons straight, 

All sparkling hot to see ; 
And said, " queen, come on thy way; 



QUEEN Eleanor's fall. 295 

" I will begin with thee." 
Which words did much displease the queen, 

That penance to begin ; 
But ask'd him pardon on her knees ; 

Who gave her grace therein. 

But afterwards she chanc'd to pass 

Along brave London streets, 
Whereas the mayor of London's wife 

In stately sort she meets; 
With music, mirth, and melody, 

Unto the church they went, 
To give God thanks, that to th' lord mayor 

A noble son had sent. 

It grieved much this spiteful queen, 

To see that any one 
Should so exceed in mirth and joy. 

Except herself alone : 
For which, she after did devise 

Within her bloody mind, 
And practised still more secretly. 

To kill this lady kind. 

Unto the mayor of London then 

She sent her letters straight, 
To send his lady to the court, 

Upon her grace to wait. 
But when the London lady came 

Before proud El'nor's face. 
She stript her from her rich array 

And kept her vile and base. 



296 QUEEN Eleanor's fall. 

She sent her into Wales witli speed, 

And kept her secret there, 
And us'd her still more cruelly 

Than ever man did hear. 
She made her wash, she made her starch. 

She made her drudge alway ; 
She made her nurse up children small, 

And labour night and day. 

But this contented not the queen, 

But shew'd her most despite; 
She bound this lady to a post, 

At twelve a clock at night ; 
And as, poor lady, she stood bound, 

The queen, in angry mood. 
Did set two snakes unto her breast. 

That suck'd away her blood. 

Thus died the mayor of London's wife, 

Most grievous for to hear ; 
Which made the Spaniard grow more proud, 

As after shall appear. 
The wheat that daily made her bread 

Was bolted twenty times ; 
The food that fed this stately dame, 

Was boil'd in costly wines. 

The water that did spring from ground. 

She would not touch at all ; 
But wash'd her hands with the dew of heav'n, 

That on sweet roses fall. 
She bath'd ber body many a time 



QUEEN Eleanor's fall. 297 

In fountains fill'd with milk ; 
And ev'ry day did <»hange attire, 
In costly Median silk. 

But coming then to London back, 

Within her coach of gold, 
A tempest strange within the skies 

This queen did there behold : 
Out of which storm she could not go, 

But there remained a space ; 
Four horses could not stir the coach 

A foot out of the place. 

A judgment lately sent from heav'n, 

For shedding guiltless blood, 
Upon this sinful queen, that slew 

Tlie London lady good ! 
King Edward then, as wisdom will'd, 

Accus'd her of that deed ; 
But she denied, and wish'd that God 

Would send his wrath with speed, — 

If that upon so vile a thing 

Her heart did ever think, 
She wish'd the ground might open wide, 

And she therein might sink ! 
With that, at Charlng-cross she sunk 

Into the ground alive, 
And after rose with life again, 

In London, at Quoenhithe. 

When, after that, she langulsh'd sore 
Full twenty days in pain, 



298 QUEEN ELEANOR'S FALL, 

At last confess'd the lady's blood 
Her guilty hand had slain : 

And likewise, how that by a fryar 
She had a base-born child ; 

Whose sinful lusts and wickedness 
Her marriage bed defil'd. 

Thus have you heard the fall of pride, 

A just reward of sin ; 
For those who will forswear themselves, 

God's vengeance daily win. 
Beware of pride, ye courtly dames. 

Both wives and maidens all; 
Bear this imprinted on your mind, 

That pride must have a fall. 



THE DUCHESS OF SUFFOLK'S CALAMITY 

From Strange Histories, p. 1 7 (Percy Society, vo], 
iii). Other copies, with variations, are in The Croicri' 
Garland of Golden Roses, Part II. p. 20 (Percy So- 
ciety, vol. XV.), and A Collection of Old Ballads, iii. 91. 
The editor of Strange Histories informs us that a play 
on the same subject as the ballad was written by 
Thomas Drew, or Drue, early in the reign of James 
r., and printed in 1631, under the title of The 
Duchess of Suffolk, her Life. He remarks further 
that both play and ballad was founded upon the nar 



THE DUCHESS OF SUFI 

fative of Fox, anno 1558 [^Acts and A 
928, ed. 1641]; but the dliferences bet 
account and the story which follows are altc 
great for this supposition to be true. 

Katharine, daughter of Lord TVIlloughby of . 
was first married to Charles Brandon, Duke of Sv. 
and after his death to Richard Bertie, Esq., with ^v 
she was forced to fly from persecution in 1553, taki 
ref'jge first in the Low Countries, and afterwards ii 
Poland. 

Whex God had taken for our sinne 

That prudent prince. King Edward, away, 

Then bloudy Bonner did begin 
His raging mallice to bewray ; 

All those that did the Gospell professe 

He persecuted more or lesse. 

Thus, when the Lord on us did lower, 

Many in pryson did he throw, 
Tormenting them in Lollards tower, i 

Whereby they might the trueth forgoe : 
Then Cranmer, Ridley, and the rest, 
Were burnt in fire, that Christ profest. 

Smithfield was then with faggots fild, 

And many places more beside ; 
At Coventry was Sanders kild. 

At Glocester eke good Hooper dyde ; 
And to escape this bloudy day, 
Beyond-seas many fled away. 

1 There is said to be a place so called in ths archiepis- 
copal palace at Lambeth. 



DUCHESS OF Suffolk's 

the rest that sought reliefe 
; for their faith in daunger stood, 
Elizabeth was chiefe, 
aug Henries daughter of royall blood; 
hich in ^ the Tower prisoner did lie, 
ijooking each day when she should die. 

The Dutchesse of Suffolke, seeing this. 
Whose life likewise the tyrant sought. 

Who in the hope of heavenly blisse 

Within God's word her comfort wrought, 

For feare of death was faine to flie, 

And leave her house most secretly. 

That for the love of Christ alone, 
Her lands and goods she left behind, 

Seeking still for that pretious stone, 
The worde of trueth, so rare to find : 

She with her nurse, her husband, and child, 

In poor array their sights beguild. 

Tims through London they passed along, 
Each one did passe a severall streets ; 

Thus all unknowne, escaping wrong. 
At Billings-gate they all did meete : 

Jjike people poore, in Gravesend barge, 

They simply went with all their charge. 

And all along from Gravesend towne 

With easie journeyes on foote they went; 

Unto the sea-coast they came downe, 
To passe the seas was their intent ; 

1 So, C. G. G. R., for which in. 



CALAMITY. SOI 

And God provided so that day, 

That they tooke shippe and sayld away. 

And with a prosperous gale of wind 

In Flanders safe they did arive ; 
This was to their great ease of minde, 

Which from their hearts much woe did drive 
And so with thanks to God on hie, 
They tooke their way to Germanie. 

Thus as they traveld, thus disguisde, 

Upon the high way sodalnely 
By cruell theeves they were surprisde, 

Assaulting their small companie ; 
And all their treasure and their store 
They tooke away, and beate them sore. 

The nurse in middest of their fight 

Laid downe the child upon the ground ; 

She ran away out of their sight. 
And never after that was found : 

Then did the Dutchesse make great mone 

With her good husband all alone. 

The theeves had there their horses kilde, 
And all their money quite had tooke ; 

TJie pretty babie, almost spild. 
Was by their nurse likewise forsooke, 

And they farre from their friends did stand, 

All succourlesse in a strange land. 

The skies likewise began to scowle ; 
It hayld and raind in pittious sort ; 



802 THE DUCHESS OF SUFFOLK'S 

The way was long and wonderous foule ; 

Then may I now full well report 
Their griefe and sorrow was not small, 
When this unhappy chaunce did fall. 

Sometime the Dutchesse bore the child, 

As wet as ever she could be, 
A nd when the lady kind and mild 

Was wearie, then the child bore hee ; 
And thus they one another easde, 
And with their fortunes were well pleasde. 

And after many wearied steppes, 
All wet-shod both in durt and myre. 

After much griefe, their hearts yet leapes, 
(For labour doth some rest require) ; 

A towne before them they did see, 

But lodgd therein they could not bee. 

From house to house they both did goe, 
Seeking where they that night might lie, 

But want of money was their woe, 
And still the babe with cold did crie ; 

With capp and knee they courtsey make, 
, But none on them would pittie take. 

Loe here a princesse of great blood 
Did pray a peasant for reliefe, 

With tears bedewed as she stood ! 
Yet few or none regard es her griefe; 

Her speech they could not understand, 

But gave her a pennie in her hand. 



CALAMITr. 303 

When all in vaine the paines was spent, 
And that they could not house-roome get, 

Into a church-porch then they went, 
To stand out of the ralne and wet: 

Then said the Dutchesse to her deare, 

" O that we had some fier heere ! " 

Then did her husband so provide 

That fire and coales he got with spe^de ; 

She sate downe by the fiers side. 

To dresse her daughter, that had neede; 

And while she drest it in her lapp, 

Her husband made the infant papp. 

Anone the sexton thither came, 
And finding them there by the fire. 

The drunken knave, all voyde of shame, 
To drive them out was his desire : 

And spurning forth this noble dame, 

Her husbands wrath it did inflame. 

And all in furie as he stood. 

He wroung the church-keies out of his hand, 
And strooke him so, that all of blood 

His head ran downe where he did stand * 
Wherefor the sexton presently 
For helpe and ayde aloude did cry. 

Then came the officers in hast, 

And tooke the Dutchesse and her child, 

And with her husband thus they past, 
Like lambes beset with tygers wild. 

And to the governour were they brought, 

Who understood them not in ought. 



804 THE DUCHESS OF SUFFOLK'S 

Then Malster Bartue, brave and bold. 

In Latine made a gallant speech, 
Which all their miserie did unfold, 

And their high favour did beseech : 
With that, a doctor sitting by- 
Did know the !Putchesse presently. 

And thereupon arising straight, 
With minde abashed at their sighf, 

Unto them all that there did waight. 
He thus brake forth, in wordes aright : 

" Behold within your sight," quoth hee, 

"A princesse of most high degree." 

With that the governour and the rest 
Were all amazde the same to heare. 

And welcomm^d these new-come guestes 
With reverence great and princely cheare ; 

And afterward conveyd they were 

Unto their friend Prince Cassemere. 

A Sonne she had in Germanic, 
Peregrine Bartue cald by name, 

Surnamde The Good "Lord Willobie, 
Of courage great and worthie fame. 

Her daughter young, which with her went, 

Was afterward Countesse of Kent. 

For when Queene Mary was deceast, 
The Dutchesse home returnde againe, 

Who was of sorrow quite releast 

By Queene Elizabeth's happie raigne : 

For whose life and prosperitie 

We may prayse God continually. 



THE I.LFK AND DEATH OF, ETC. 305 



THE LIFE AND DEATH OF FAMOUS THO. 
STUKELY, AN ENGLISH GALLANT IN 
THE TIME OF QUEENE ELIZABETH, 
WHO ENDED HIS DATES IN A BAT- 
TAILE OF KINGS IN BARBARIE. 

Thomas Stuckley, says Fuller, " was a younger 
brother, of an ancient, wealthy, and worshipful family, 
nigh Ilfracombe in this county [Devon], being one of 
good parts; but valued the less by others, because 
overprized by himself. Having prodigally mis-spent 
his patrimony, he entered on several projects (the 
issue general of all decayed estates) ; and first pitched 
on the peopling of Florida, then newly found out, in 
the West Indies. So confident his ambition, that he 
blushed not to tell Queen Ehzabeth, 'that he pre- 
ferred rather to be sovereign of a mole-hill, than 
the highest subject to the greatest king in Christen- 
dom;* adding, moreover, 'that he was assured he 
should be a prince before his death.' * I hope,' said 
Queen Elizabeth, '1 shall hear from you, when you 
are stated in your principality.' ' I will write unto 
you,' quoth Stuckley. ' In what language ? ' said the 
Queen. He returned, ' In the style of princes : To 
our dear sister.' 

" His fair project of Florida being blasted for lack 
of money to pursue it, he went over into Ireland, 
where he was frustrated of the preferment he ex- 
pected, and met such physic that turned his fever 
vnto freniy; for hereafter resolving treacherously to 
VOL. VII. 20 



306 THE LIFE AND DEATH OP 

attempt what lie could not loyally achieve, he went 
over into Italy. 

" It is incredible how quickly he wrought himself 
through the notice into the favour, through the court 
into the chamber, yea closet, yea bosom of Pope Pius 
Quintus ; so that some wise men thought his Holiness 
did forfeit a parcel of his infallibility in giving credit 
to su(;h a glorloso, vaunting that with three thousand 
soldiers he would beat all the English out of Ireland. 

" The Pope finding it cheaper to fill Stuckley's 
swelling sails with airy titles than real gifts, created 
him Baron of Ross, Viscount Murrough, Earl of Wex- 
ford, Marquis of Leinster ; and then furnished this 
title-top-heavy general with eight hundred soldiers, 
paid by the King of Spain, for the Irish expedition. 

" In passage thereunto, Stuckley lands at Portugal, 
just when Sebastian, the king thereof, with two Moorish 
kings, were undertaking a voyage into Africa. Stuck- 
ley, scorning to attend, is persuaded to accompany 
them. Some thought he wholly quitted his Irish de- 
sign, partly because loath to be pent up in an island 
(the continent of Africa affording more elbow-room 
for his achievements) ; partly because so mutable his 
mind, he ever loved the last project (as mothers the 
youngest child) best. Others conceive he took this 
African in order to his Irish design ; such his con- 
fidence of conquest, that his breakfast on the Turks 
would the better enable him to dine on the English 
in Ireland. 

" Landing in Africa, Stuckley gave council which 
was safe, seasonable, and necessary ; namely, that for 
I wo or three days they should refresh their land sol- 
diers; whereof some were sick, and some were weak. 



THOMAS STUKELT. 307 

by reason of their tempestuous passage. This would 
not be heard ; so furious was Don Sebastian to en- 
gage; as if he would pluck up the bays of victory out 
of the ground, before they were grown up ; and so, in 
the battle of Alcaser, their army was wholly defeated : 
where Stuckley lost his life. 

•A fatal fight, where in one day was slain, 

Three kings that were, and one that would be fain ! ' 

"This battle was fought anno 1578, where Stuck- 
ley, with his eight hundred men, behaved himself 
most valiantly, till overpowered with multitude." 
Worthies of England, by Nuttall, i. 414. 

Mr. Dyce, in his prefatory note to Peek's Battle of 
Alcazar, having cited the above extract with several 
poetical notices of Stukeley, mentions another play 
founded on this adventurer's exploits (^The Famous 
Historye of the Life and Death of Captaine Thomas 
Stukely), acted in 1596, and printed in 1605 (Peele's 
Works, ii. 85). 

The ballad is from The Crown- Garland of Golden 
Roses (Percy Society, vol. vl.) p. 33. There are some 
verses on Stukeley's projected voyage to Florida in 
Mr. Collier's Old Ballads, in the first volume of the 
Percy Society, p. 73. 

In the west of England 
Borne there was, I understand, 

A famous gallant in his dayes, 
By birth a wealthy clothier's sonne ; 
Deeds of wonder he hath done. 

To purchase him a long and lasting praise. 



808 THE LIFE AND DEATH OP 

If I should tell his stor}"-, 
Pride was all his glory, 

And lusty Stukely he was call'd in court; 
He serv'd a bishop of the west, 
And did accompany the best, 

]\Iaintaining still himselfe in gallant sort- 
Being thus esteemed, 
And every where well deemed. 

He gain'd the favour of a London dame, 
Daughter to an alderman, 
Curtis he was called then, 

To whom a sutor gallantly he came. 

When she his person spied. 
He could not be denied, 

So brave a gentleman he was to see ; 
She was quickly made his wife, 
In weale or woe to lead her life. 

Her father willingly did so agree. 

Thas, in state and pleasure. 
Full many daies they measure ; 

Till cruell death, with his regardles spight. 
Bore old Curtis to his grave, 
A thing which Stukely wisht to have, 

That he might revell all in gold so bright. 

He was no sooner tombed, 
But Stukely presumed 

To spend a hundred pound that day in waste 
The bravest gallants of the land 



THOMAS STUKELY. 309 

Had Stukclies purse at their command ; 
Thus merrily the time away he pass'd. 

Taverns and ordinanes 
VVere^ his cheefest braveries, 

Gould en angells flew there up and downs ; 
Riots were ^ his best delight, 
With stately feastings day and night: 

In court and citty thus he won renowne 



Thus wasting land and living 
By this lawlesse giving, 

At last he sold the pavements of his yard, 
Which covered were with blocks of tin ; 
Old Curtis left the same to him. 

Which he consumed vainely, as you heard. 

Whereat his wife sore greeved, 
Desir'd to be releeved ; 

" Make much of me, dear husband," she did say 
*' I'll make much more of thee," quoth he, 
" Than any one shall, verily : 

I'll sell thy clothes, and so will go away.'* 

Cruelly thus hearted, 
Away from her he parted, 

And travelled into Italy with speed : 
There he flourisht many a day 
In his silkes and rich array, 

And did the pleasures of a lady feed. 

1 2 where. 



310 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF 

It was the ladies pleasure 

To give him gold and treasure, 

And to maintaine him in great pomp and fame . 
At last came newes assuredly 
Of a battaile fought in Barbary, 

And he would valiantly go see the pame. 

Many a noble gallant 
Sold both land and talent 

To follow Stukely in this famous fight ; 
Whereas three kings in person would 
Adventurously, with courage bould, 

Within the battaile shew themselves in sight.i 

Stukely and his followers all, 
Of the king of Portugall 

Had entertainement like to gentlemen : 
The king affected Stukely so, 
That he his secrets all did know, 

And bore his royall standard now and then. 

Upon this day of honour 

Each king did shew his banner ; 

Morocco, and the King of Barbery, 
Portugall, with all his train, 
Bravely glister'd in the plain. 

And gave the onset there most valiantly. 

The cannons they resounded, 
Thund'rlng drums rebounded, 

" Kill, kill ! " as then was all the soldiers ciy ; 

1 fight. 



THOMAS STUKELT. 31 1 

Mangle-i men lay on the ground, 
And with blood the earth was droimd, 

The sun was likewise darken'd in the skye. 

Heaven was sore displeased, 
And would not be appeased, 

But tokens of God's heavy wrath did show 
That he was angry at this war ; 
He sent a fearfull blazing star, 

"Whereby these kings might their misfortunea 
know. 

Bloody was this slaughter. 
Or rather wilfull murther. 

Where six score thousand fighting men were 
slain ; 
Three kings within this battaile died, 
With forty dukes and earles beside. 

The like will never more be foujiht af^ain. 

With woful armes enfoulding, 
Stukely stood beholding 

This bloody sacrifice of soules that day : 
He, sighing, said, " I, wofull wight. 
Against my conscience heere did fight, 

And brought my followers all unto decay.'* 

Being thus molested, 

And with greefes oppressed, 

Those brave Italians that did sell their lands, 
With Stukely thus to travel forth, 
And venture life for little worth, 

U])on him all did lay their murthering hands. 



312 THOMAS STUKELY. 

Unto death thus wounded, 

His heart with sorrow swounded, 

And to them all he made this heavy mone : 
" Thus have I left my country deere, 
To be so vilely murthered heere, 

Even in this place whereas I am not known. 

" My life I have much wronged ; 
Of what to her belonged 

I vainely spent in idle course of life. 
What I have done is past, I see, 
And bringeth nought but greef to me, 

Therefore grant now thy pardon, gentle wife ; 

" Life, I see, consumeth, 
4nd death, I feel, presumeth 

To change this life of mine into a new : 
Yet this me greatest comfort brings, 
I liVd and died in love of kings. 

And so brave Stukely bids the world adew ** 

Stukelys life thus ended, 
Was after death befrended, 

And like a soldier buried gallantly ; 
Where now there stands upon his grave 
A stately temple, builded brave, 

With golden turrets piercing in the skye. 



LORD DELAWARE. 313 



LORD DELAWARE. 

No plausible foundation for this ballad has as yet 
been found in history. It has been suggested that 
Delaware is a corruption of De la Mare, a speaker of 
the House of Commons, and a great advocate of poj)- 
ular rights, in the reign of Edward the Third 1 But 
there is no accounting for the Dutch lord and the 
Welsh Duke of Devonshire on this or any other sup- 
position. 

The ballad is given fromLyle's Ancient Ballads and 
Songs, p. 135, as "noted down from the singing of a 
gentleman," and then ''remodelled and smoothed 
down " by the editor. The same copy is printed in 
Dixon's Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs (Percy 
Society, vol. xvii.), p. 80, and in Bell's volume with 
the same title, p. 66. 

In the Parliament House, 

A great rout has been there, 
Betwixt our good king 

And the Lord Delaware : 
Says Lord Delaware 

To his Majesty full soon, 
" Will It please you, my Liege, 

To grant me a boon ? " 

** What's your boon ? " says the King, 
•' Now let me understand.** 



314 LORD DELAWARE. 

" It's, give me all the poor men 
We've starving in this land ; 

And without delay, I'll hie me 
To Lincolnshire, 

To sow hemp-seed and flax-seed, 
And hang them all there. 

" For with hempen cord it's better 

To stop each poor man's breath, 
Than with famine you should see 

Your subjects starve to death." 
Up starts a Dutch lord, 

Who to Delaware did say, 
" Thou deservest to be stabb'd ! *' 

Then he turned himself away : 

" Thou deservest to be stabb'd, 

And the dogs have thine ears, 
For insulting our king 

In this parliament of peers." 
Up sprang a Welsh lord, 

The brave Duke of Devonshire, 
" In young Delaware's defence, I'll fight 

This Dutch lord, m}-- Sire. 

" For he is in the right. 

And I'll make it so appear : 
Him I dare to single combat, 

For insulting Delaware." 
A stage was soon erected, 

And to combat they went, 
For to kill, or to be kill'd. 

It was either's full intent. 



LORD DELAWARE. Sit) 

But the very first flourish, 

When the heralds gave command, 
The sword of brave Devonshire 

Bent backward on his hand ; 
In suspense he paused awhile, 

Scann'd his foe before he strake. 
Then against the king's armour, 

His bent sword he brake. 

Then he sprang from the stage, 

To a soldier in the ring, 
Saying, " Lend your sword, that to an end 

This tragedy we bring : 
Though he's fighting me in armour, 

While I am fighting bare. 
Even more than this I'd venture 

For young Lord Delaware." 

Leaping back on the stage. 

Sword to buckler now resounds, 
Till he left the Dutch lord 

A bleeding in his wounds : 
This seeing, cries the King 

To his guards without delay, 
" Call Devonshire down, — 

Take the dead man away I ** 

« No," says brave Devonshire, 

" I've fought him as a man ; 
Since he's dead, I will keep 

The trophies I have won. 
For he fought me in your armour. 

While I fought him bare. 



B16 LORD DELAWARE. 

And the same you must win back, my Liege, 
If ever you them wear. " 

God bless the Church of England, 

May it prosper on each hand, 
And also every poor man 

Now starving in this land ; 
And while I pray success may crown 

Our king upon his throne, 
I'll wish that every poor man 

May long enjoy his own. 



THE BATTLE OF HARLAT7. 31' 



.THE BATTLE OF HARLATV. (See p. 180.) 



Traditionary Version, from Ajtonn's Scotiish Ballads, i. 73 

" I am indebted to the kindness of Ladv John Scott 
for the following extremely spirited ballad, which was 
taken down some years ago in Aberdeenshire, where 
it is still very popular. It is sung to a beautiful air, 
with the following refrain to each stanza : — 

" TFT' a diie, drie, dredidronUie drie.^* 

As I cam in by Garioch land. 

And doun by Netherha', 
There was fifty thousand Hielandmen, 

A' marching to Harlaw. 

As I cam on, and further on. 

And doun and by Balquhaim, 
O there I met Sir James the Ross, 

Wi' him Sir John the Graeme. 

" O cam ye frae the Highlands, man ? 

O cam ye a' the way ? 
Saw ye Mac Donnell and his men. 

As they cam frae the Skye ? " 

" Yes, we cam frae the Highlands, man, 

And we cam a' the way, 
And we saw Mac Donnell and his men, 

As they cam in frae Skye." 



318 THE BATTLE OF HARLAW. 

" O was ye near Mac Donnell's men? 

Did ye their number see ? 
Come, tell to me, John Hielandman, 

What might their numbers be ? " 

" Yes, we was near, and near eneugh, 

And we their number saw ; 
There was fifty thousand HIelandmen, 

A* marching to Harlaw." 

" Gin that be true," said James the Ross,, 
" We'll no come meikle speed ; 

We'll cry upon our merry men, 
And turn our horses' head." 

" O na, O na ! " says John the Graeme, 
" That thing maun never be ; 

The gallant Grasmes were never beat, 
A'Ve'll try what we can dee." 

As I cam on, and further on, 

And doun and by Harlaw, 
They fell fu' close on ilka side, 

Sic straiks ye never saw. 

They fell fu' close on ilka side, 

Sic straiks ye never saw ; 
For ilka sword gaed clash for clash, 

At the battle o' Harlaw. 

The Hielandmen wi' their lang swords, 

They laid on as fu' sair, 
And they drave baok our merry men. 

Three acres breadth and mair. 



THE BATTLE OF HARLAW. 

Brave Forbes to liis brother did say, 

" O brother, dinna ye see ? 
They beat us back on ilka side, 

And we'll be forced to flee." 

" O na ! O na ! my brother dear, 

O na ! that mauna be ! 
You'll tak your gude sword in your hand, 

And ye'U gang in wi' me.'* 

Then back to back the brothers brave 

Gaed in amang the thrang, 
And they swept doun the Hielandmen, 

Wi' swords baith sharp and lang. 

The first ae straik that Forbes strack, 

He gar'd Mac Donnell reel ; 
And the neist ae straik that Forbes strack, 

The brave Mac Donnell fell. 

And siccan a Pitlarichie 

I'm sure ye never saw, 
As was amang the Hielandmen, 

When they saw Mac Donnell fa*. 

And when they saw that he was dead, 

They turn'd and ran awa', 
And they buried him in Legate's Den, 

A large mile frae Harlaw. 

Some rade, some ran, and some did gang, 

They were o' sma' record. 
But Forbe's and his merry men 

They slew them a' the road. 



319 



320 THE BATTLE OF HARLATV. 



The battle it began ; 
On Saturday at gloamin', 
Ye'd scarce ken'd wlia had wan. 

And sic a weary buryin* 

i m sure ye never saw, 
As was the Sunday after that, 

On the muirs aneath Harlaw. 

Gin onybody speer at ye 

For tnem we took awa', 
Ye may tell them plain, and very pl^. 

They're sleeping at Harlaw. 



ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH 

BALLAD S. 



VOLUME VIII. 
BOOK vni. 



KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CAN- 
TERBURY. 

Stories resembling tl>it contained in the following 
ballad are to be met with in the literature of most of 
the nations of Europe ; for example, in the Gesta Ro- 
manorum, (No. XIX. and [XXXV.] of Madden's Old 
English Versions,) in the amusing German tale Der 
Phaffe Amis, 98-180, in Eulenspiegel, (Marbach, p. 
28,) and the English Owlglass (31st Adventure in the 
recent edition), in the Grimm's Kinder-und-Haus-mar- 
chen, No. 152, in Sacchetti's Novels, No. 4, the Pa- 
tranuelo of Juan TImoneda, Alcala, 1576 (Ritson, Anc. 
Songs, ii. 183), the Contes a rire, i. 182, {Gent. Mag. 
65, i. 35,) etc., etc. King John and the Abbot, says 
Grundtvig (H. 650), Is universally known in Denmark 
in the form of a prose tale ; and a copy is printed in 
Gamle danske Minder (1854) No. Ill, The King and 
the Miller. 

Wynken de Worde, printed in 1511, a little collec- 
tion of riddles, translated from the French, like those 
propounded by King John to the Abbot, with the title 
Demaundes Joyous. By this link the present ballad 
is connected with a curious class of compositions, pe- 
culiar to the Middle Ages — the Disputations, or Wit- 
Combats, of which the dialogues of Salomon and 
Marcolf (existing in many languages) are the most 
familiar, and those of Salomon and Saturn (in An- 
glo-Saxon) the oldest preserved specimens. These 
dialogues, in their earlier shape grave contests for 



4 KING JOHN AND THE 

Buperiorlty in knowledge and wisdom, underwent a 
change about the twelfth century, by which they 
became essentially comic. The serious element, rep- 
resented by Salomon, was retained after this, merely 
to afford material, or contrast, for the coarse humor of 
Marcolf, Avhose part it is, under the character of a 
rude and clownish person, " facie deformis et tur- 
pissimus," to turn the sententious observations of the 
royal sage into ludicrous parodies.* 

The hint, and possibly a model, for these disputa- 
tions may have been found in Jewish tradition. We 
learn from Josephus, (^Antiquities, Book VIII. ch. v.) 
that Hiram of Tyre and Solomon sent one another 
sophistical puzzles and enigmas to be solved, on con- 
dition of forfeiting large sums of money in case of 
failure, and that Solomon's riddles were all guessed 
by Abdsemon of Tyre, or by Abdimus, his son, for 
authorities differ. This account coincides with what 
we read in Chronicles, (Book II. ch. ii. 13, 14,) of the 
man sent by Hiram to Solomon, who, besides a uni- 
versal knowledge of the arts, was skilful " to find out 
every device that might be put to him " by cunning 
men — that is, apparently, " hard questions," such as 
the Queen of Sheba came to prove Solomon with, 

* Among those nations who originated and developed the 
character of I\Iarcolf (the German and the French) his fame 
has declined, but in Italy, where the legend was first intro- 
duced towards the end of the sixteenth century, his shrewd 
sayings, like the kindred jests of the Eulenspiegel in Ger- 
many, have an undiminished popularity and his story, both 
in the form of a chap-book and of a satirical epic, (the Ber~ 
ipldo,) is circulated tlu'oughout the length and breadtli of 
the country, whence it has also been transplanted intc 
Greece. 



ABBOT OF CANTERBUKY. 5 

(1 Kings, X. i.) some account of which is given in 
the Talmud. — See, on the whole subject, Kemble's 
masterly essay on Salomon and Saturn, printed by 
the iElfric Society : also Griisse, Sagenkreise des Mit- 
telalters, p. 466-4 71; the Grimms' Kinder-und-Haus-' 
marchen, vol. iii. p. 236, ed. 1856 ; F. W. V. Schmidt, 
Taschenbuch deutscher Romanzen, p. 82. 

Examples of the riddle-song pure and simple will 
be found under Captain Wedderburn's Courtship. 

This ballad is taken from Percy's jReliquef<, ii. 329. 
The copy in Durfey's Pills to Purge Melanchohj, iv. 
29, or A Collection of Old Ballads, ii. 49, is vastly 
inferior to the present. 

" The common popular ballad of King John and 
the Abbot" says Percy, " seems to have been abridged 
and modernized about the time of James L, from one 
much older, entitled King John and the Bishop of 
Canterbury. The Editor's folio MS. contains a copy 
of this last, but in too corrupt a state to be reprinted; 
it however afforded many lines worth reviving, which 
will be found inserted in the ensuing stanzas. 

" The archness of the following questions and an- 
swers hath been much admired by our old ballad- 
makers ; for besides the two copies above mentioned, 
there is extant another ballad on the same subject, 
(but of no great antiquity or merit,) entitled Kijig 
Olfrey and the Abbot. [Old Ball.n. bb.'] Lastly, 
about the time of the civil wars, when the cry ran 
against the bishops, some puritan worked up the same 
story into a very doleful ditty, to a solemn tune, con- 
cerning King Henry and a Bishop ; with this stinging 
moral : 

* Unlearned men hard matters out can find, 
When learned bishops princes eyes do blind.' 



5 KING JOHN AND THE 

" The following Is chiefly printed from an ancient 
black-letter copy, to the tune of Derry-down*' 

An ancient story He tell you anon 

Of a notable prince, that was called King John ; 

And be ruled England with maine and with 

might, 
Foi be did great wrong, and maintein'd little 

ricrbt. 



'O* 



And He tell you a story, a story so merrye, 
Concerning the Abbott of Canterburye ; 
How for his house-keeping and high renowne, 
They rode poste for him to fair London towne. 

An hundred men, the king did beare say, 
The abbot kept in his house every day ; 
And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt. 
In velvet coates waited the abbot about. 

" How now, father abbot, I heare it of thee. 
Thou keepest a farre better house than mee ; 
And for thy house-keeping and high renowne, 
I feare thou work'st treason against my crown." 

" My liege," quo' the abbot, " I would it were 

knowne 
1 never spend nothing, but what is my owne ; 
And I trust your grace will doe me no deere, 
For spending of my owne true-gotten geere.*' 



ABBOT OF CANTERBURY. 7 

" Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe, 
And now for the same thcu needest must dye ; 
For except thou canst answer me questions three. 
Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie. 

" And first," quo' the king, " when I'm in this 

stead. 
With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, 
Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe. 
Thou must tell me to one penny what I am 

worthe. 

" Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt, 
How soone I may ride the whole world about ; 
And at the third question thou must not shrink, 
But tell me here truly what I do think." 

" these are hard questions for my shallow 

witt. 
Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet : 
But if you will give me but three weekes space, 
He do my endeavour to answer your grace." 

" Now three weeks space to thee will I give, 
And that is the longest time thou hast to live ; 
For if thou dost not answer my questions three, 
Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to race." 

Away rode the abbot all sad at that word, 
And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford ; 



8 KING JOflX AND THE 

But never a doctor there was so wise, 

That could with his learning an answer devise. 

Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold, 

And he mett his shepheard a going to fold : 

" How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome 

home ; 
What newes do you bring us from good King 

John ? " 

" Sad newes, sad newes, shepheard, I must give. 
That I have but three days more to live ; 
For if I do not answer him questions three, 
My head will be smitten from my bodie. 

" The first is to tell him there in that stead. 
With his crowne of golde so fair on his head, 
Among all his liege men so noble of birth. 
To within one penny of what he is worth. 

" The seconde, to tell him, without any doubt, 
How soone he may ride this whole world about ; 
And at the third question I must not shrinke. 
But tell him there truly what he does thinke." 

" Now cheare iip, sire abbot, did you never hear 

yet, 

That a fool he may learne a wise man witt ? 
Lend me horse, and serving men, and your ap- 
parel. 
And He ride to London to answere your quarrel. 



ABBOT OF CANTERBURY. 9 

^ N"ay frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee, 
I am like your lordship, as ever may bee ; 
And if you will but lend me your gowne. 
There is none shall knowe us at fair London 
towne." 

" Now horses and serving-men thou shalt have, 
"With sumptuous array most gallant and brave, 
With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope, 
Fit to appear *fore our fader the pope." 

" Now, welcome, sire abbot," the king he did say, 
" Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day : 
For and if thou canst answer my questions three, 
Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee. 

" And first, when thou seest me here in this stead, 
With my crowne of golde so fair on my head, 
Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, 
Tell me to one penny what I am worth." 

" For thirty pence our Saviour was sold 
Among the false Jewes, as I have bin told : 
And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, 
For I thinke thou art one penny worser than 
' hee." 

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,^ 
"I did not think I had been worth so littel! 

1 Meaning probably St. BotolDh. 



10 KING JOHN, ETC. 

—Now secondly tell me, without any doubt, 
How soone I may ride this whole world about.** 

" You must rise with the sun, and ride with the 

same 
Until the next morning he riseth againe ; 
And then your grace need not make any doubt 
But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about.** 

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, 
" I did not think it could be gone so soone ! 
—Now from the third question thou must not 

shrinke, 
But tell me here truly what I do thinke." 

"Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace 

merry ; 
You thinke I'm the abbot of Canterbury ; 
But I'm his poor shepheard, as plain you may 

see. 
That am come to beg pardon for him and for 

mee.'* 

The king he laughed, and swore by the masse, 
" He make thee lord abbot this day in his pl(^ce !** 
" Now naye, my liege, be not in such speede, 
For alacke I can neither write ne reade." 

** Four nobles a w^eek, then I will give thee, 
For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee ; 



CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN'S COURTSHIP. 11 

And tell the old abbot -when thou comest home, 
Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King 
John/* 



CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN'S COURTSHIP. 

The two following ballads, in connection with the 
foregoing, will serve as specimens of the anciently 
highly-popular class of riddle songs. No ballad, says 
Motherwell, is even now more frequently met with on 
the stalls than Captain Wedderhurn*s Courtship. It 
was first published in The New British Songster, Fal- 
kirk, 1785, and afterwards in Jamieson's Popular 
Ballads, ii. 154, from which the present copy is taken. 
Chambers gives a few diff'erent readings from a copy 
furnished by Mr. Kinloch — Scottish Ballads, p." 331. 

A fragment of this piece is given in Minstrelsy 
of the English Border, p. 230, under the title of The 
Lair J of Roslin's Daughter. Riddles like those in the 
following ballads are found in Proud Lady Margaret, 
p. 83 of this volume. The Courteous Knight, in the 
Appendix, and The Bonny Hind Squire, in Scottish 
Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 42, Percy 
Society, vol. xvii. — three varieties of one original: 
and in Gifts from over Sea, Appendix, p. 290. Also, 
in several of the ancient Norse poems ; in the ancient 
Danish ballad Svend Vonved, Grundtvig, No. 18; in 
Sven Svanehvit, SvensJca F. V., No. 45 ; Hammers- 
haimb's FceroisJce Kvceder, ii. No. 4 



12 CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN'S COURTSHIP. 

Norslr. Folkeviser, p. 369 ; Erk's Liederhort, No. 153; 
Uhland, No. 1, 2, 3 ; Erlach, lil. 37 ; Wunderhorn, ii. 
407 ; Tschischka and Schottky, O ester reichische Volksl. 
p. 28 ; Haupt and Schmaler, Volksl. der Wenden, L 
No. 150, ii. No. 74 ; Talvj, Volksl. der Serhen, ii. 77; 
Goetze, Stimmen des russischen Volkes, p. 163 5 etc., etc. 
See especially Grimdtvig, i. 237, ii. 648, from whom 
we have borrowed some of these references. 

" The following copy was furnished from Mr. Herd's 
MS. by the editor of the Border Minstrelsy, and the 
present writer has supplied a few readings of small 
importance from his own recollection, as it was quite 
familiar to him in his early youth." Jamieson. 

The Lord of Roslin's daughter 

Walk'd thro' the wood her lane, 
And by came Captain Wedderburn, 

A servant to the king. 
He said unto his serving men, 

" Were't not against the law, 
I would tak her to my ain bed. 

And lay her neist the wa'." 

" I am walking here alone," she says, 

" Amang my father's trees ; 
And you must let me walk alane, 

Kind sir, now, if you please ; 
The supper bell it will be rung, 

And I'll be mist awa' ; 
Sae I winna lie in your bed, 

Either at stock or wa'." 



CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN's COURTSHIP. 13 

He says, " My pretty lady, 

I pray lend me your hand, 
And you shall hae drums and trumpets 

Always at your command ; 
And fifty men to guard you with, 

That well their swords can draw ; 
Sae w^e'se baith lie in ae bed, 

And ye'se lie neist the wa'." 

'* Haud awa frae me," she said, 

" And pray lat gae my hand ; 
The supper bell it will be rung, 

I can nae Linger stand ; 
My father he will angry be, 

Gin I be miss'd awa ; 
Sae I'll nae lie in your bed, 

Either at stock or wa'." 

Then said the pretty lady, 

" I pray tell me your name : " 
" My name is Captain Wedderbum, 

A servant to the king. 
Tho' thy father and his men were here, 

Of them I'd have nae awe ; 
But tak you to my ain bed, 

And lay you neist the wa\'* 

He lighted aff his milk-white steed, 

And set this lady on, 
And held her by the milk-white hand, 



14 CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN's COURTSHIP. 

Even as they rade along ; 
He held her by the middle jimp, 

For fear that she should fa', 
To tak her to his ain bed, 

And lay her neist the wa*. 

He took her to his lodging-house ; 

His landlady look'd ben ; 
Says, " ]\Iony a pretty lady 

In Edenbruch I've seen, 
But sic a lovely face as thine 

In it I never saw ; 
Gae mak her down a down-bed, 

And lay her neist the wa'." 

" baud awa' frae me," she says, 

" I pray ye lat me be ; 
I winna gang into your bed. 

Till ye dress me dishes three : 
Dishes three ye maun dress to me, 

Gin I should eat them a'. 
Afore that I lie in your bed, 

Either at stock or wa'. 

" Its ye maun get to my supper 
A cherry without a stane ; 

And ye maun get to my supper 
A chicken without a bane ; 

And ye maun get to my supper 
A bird without a ga' ; 



CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN'S COURTSHIP. 15 

Or I winna lie in your bed, 
Either at stock or wa'." 

" Its whan the cherry is in the ^rry, 

I'm sure it has nae stane ; 
And whan the chicken's in the egg, 

I'm sure it has nae bane ; 
And sin the flood o' Noah, 

The dovv she had nae ga'^; 
Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed. 

And ye'se lie neist the wa'." 

*' baud your tongue, young man," she says, 

*'Nor that gait me perplex ; 
For ye maun tell me questions yet, 

And that is questions six : 
Questions six ye tell to me, 

And that is three times twa. 
Afore I lie in your bed. 

Either at stock or wa'. 

" What's greener than the greenest grass ? 

What hicher than the trees ? 
What's war nor an ill woman's wish ? 

What's deeper than the seas ? 
What bird sings first ? and whareupon 

The dew dolh first down fa'? 

1 The peasants in Scotland say that the dove that waa 
Bent out of the Ark by Noah flew till she burst her gaD, and 
that no dove since that tinae ever had a gall. J. 



16 CAPTAIN WEDDEKBUIIN'S COURTSHIP, 

Ye sail tell afore I lay me down 
Between you and the wa'." 

" Vergris is greener than the grass ; 

Heaven's hicher than the trees ; 
The deil's warse nor a woman's wish ; 

Hell's deeper than the seas ; 
The cock craws first ; on cedar top 

The dew down first doth fa' ; 
And we'll lie baith in ae bed, 

And ye'se lie neist the waV 

" O baud your tongue, young man," she says, 

" And gi'e your fleechin' o'er, 
Unless you'll find me ferlies, 

And that is ferlies four ; 
Ferlies four ye maun find me, 

And that is twa and twa ; 
Or I'll never lie in ^^our bed. 

Either at stock or wa*. 

" And ye maun get to me a plumb 

That in December grew ; 
And get to me a silk mantel, 

That waft was ne'er ca'd thro' ; 
A sparrow's horn ; a priest unborn, 

This night to join us twa; 
Or I'll nae lie in your bed. 

Either at stock or waV 



CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN'S COURTSHIP. 17 

" My father he has winter fruit 

That in December grew ; 
Mj mither has an Indian gown, 

That waft was ne'er ca'd thro* ; 
A sparrow's horn is quickly found ; 

There's ane on every claw ; 
There's ane upon the neb o' him ; 

Perhaps there may be twa. 

" The priest he's standing at the door. 

Just ready to come in ; 
Nae man can say that he was born, 

To lie it were a sin ; 
A wild bore tore his mither's side, 

He out o' it did fa' ; 
Then we'll baith lie in ae bed, 

And thou's lie neist the wa'." 

Little kend Girzy Sinclair 

That morning whan she raise, 
That this wad be the hindermaist 

O' a' her maiden days ; 
But now there's nae within the realm, 

I think, a blyther twa ; 
And they baith lie in ae bed, 

And she lies neist the wa'. 

VOL. VIII. 2 



18 LAY THE BENT TO THE BONNY BROOM. 



LAY THE BENT TO THE BONNY BROOM. 

From Durfey's Pills to Purge MelancJioly, iv. 129, 
with" the title A Riddle wittily expounded. The samo 
in Jamieson's Popular Ballads^ ii. 155, and in The 
Borderer's Table Book, vii. 83. A fragment of this 
ballad, called The Three Sisters, is printed in Gilbert's 
Ancient Christinas Carols, (2d ed.) p. Qb, and has a 
different burden. It begins 

There were thi-ee sisters fair and bright, 

Jennifer gentle and Bosemaree, 
And they three loved one valiant knight, 

As the dew files over the mulberry tree. 

There was a lady in the North -country, 

Lay the hent to the honny broom, 
And she had lovely daughters three, 

Fa, la la la, fa, la la la ra re. 

There was a knight of noble worth, 
Which also lived at the North. 

The knight, of courage stout and brave, 
A wife he did desire to have. 

He knocked at the lady's gate. 
One evening when it was late. 

The eldest^ sister let him in, 

And pinn'd the door with a silver pin. 

1 youngest. 



LAY THE BENT TO THE BONNY BKOOAI. 19 

The second sister, she made his bed, 
And laid soft pillows under his head. 

The youngest [sister] that same night, 
She went to bed to this young knight. 

And in the morning when it was day, 
These words unto him she did say. 

" Now you have had your will," quoth she, 
" I pray, Sir Knight, you marry me." 

This young brave knight to her reply'd. 
*' Thy suit, foir maid, shall not be deny'd, 

" If thou canst answer me questions three, 
This very day will I marry thee." 

" Kind sir, in love, then," quoth she, 
" Tell me what your three questions be." 

" what is longer than the way ? ^ 
Or what is deeper than the sea ? 

" Or what is louder than a horn ? 
Or what is sharper than a thorn ? 

" Or what is greener than the grass ? 
Or what is worse than a woman was ? " 

1 i. e. the milky way. 



20 LAY THE BENT TO THE BONNX BROOM. 

•' love is longer than the way, 
And hell is deeper than the sea. 

" And thunder's louder than the horn, 
And hunger's sharper than a thorn. 

" And poyson's greener than the grass,^ 
And the devil's worse than the woman was." 

When she these questions answered had. 
The knight became exceeding glad. 

And having truly try'd her wit, 
He much commended her for it. 

And after, as 'tis verified, ' 

He made of her his lovely bride. 

So now, fair maidens all, adieu ; 
This song I dedicate to you. 

I wish that you may constant prove 
Unto the man that you do love. 

1 '' Vergris is greener than the grass." C. W.^s Court- 
ihip V. 97 



KING EDWARD FOURTH, ETC. 21 



KING EDAVARD FOURTH AND THE TAN- 
NER OF TAMWORTH. 

The next two ballads belong to a class of tales ex- 
tremely numerous in England, in which the sovereign 
is represented as conversing on terms of good fellow- 
ship with one of his humbler subjects who is unac- 
quainted with the royal person. In several of the best 
of these stories, the monarch is benighted in the forest, 
and obliged to demand hospitality of the first man he 
meets. He is at first viewed with suspicion and 
treated with rudeness, but soon wins favor by his afia- 
bility and good humor, and is invited to partake of a 
liberal supper, composed in part of his own venison.^ 
In due time the king reveals his true character to his 
astonished and mortified host, who looks to be pun- 
ished alike for his famiharity and for deer-stealing, 
but is pardoned for both, and even handsomely re- 
warded for his entertainment. 

The earliest of these stories seems to be that of King 
Alfred and the Neatherd, in which the herdsman's 
wife plays the offending part, and the peasant himself 
is made Bishop of Winchester. Others of very con- 
Biderable antiquity are the tales of Henry H. and the 
Cistercian Abbot in the Speculum Ecclesice of Giraldus 
Cambrensis, (an. 1220,) printed in Reliquice Afitiquce, 
I. 147 ; King Edward and the Shepherd, and Th 
King [Edward] and the Hermit, in Hartshorne's Metri- 
cal Tales, (p. 35, p. 293, the latter previously in The 
British Bibliographer, iv. 81 ;) Rati/ Coilzear, huio he 
harbreit King Charlis, in Laing's Select Remains ; John 



22 KING EDWARD FOURTH AND THE 

the Reeve, an unprinted piece In the Percy MS., found- 
ed on an adventure between King Edward I. and one 
of his balHfis, which is highly commended by Dr. Percy 
" for its genuine humor, diverting incidents, and faith- 
ful picture of rustic manners ; " and The King and the 
Barker, the original of the present ballad. (See also 
the seventh and eighth fits of the Liltle Gest of Robin 
Hood.) More recent specimens are the two pieces 
here given, and others mentioned by Percy : King 
Henry and the Soldier, King Henry VHI. and the 
Cobbler, King James J. and the Tinker, King William 
and the Forester, ^^c. It Is obvious that a legend of 
immemorial antiquity has been transferred by succes- 
sive minstrels or story-tellers to the reigning monarch 
of their own times. An anecdote of the same char- 
acter is related by Mr. Wright of Prince George of 
Denmark, and a poor artisan of Bristol, [Essays, ii. 
172.) 

The meeting of King Richard with Friar Tuck 
in Ivanhoe, was suggested by the tale of King Ed- 
ward and the Hermit. " The general tone of the 
story," says Scott, " belongs to all ranks and to all 
countries, which emulate each other In describing the 
rambles of a disguised sovereign, who, going in 
search of information or amusement into the lower 
ranks of Ufe, meets with adventures diverting to the 
reader or hearer, from the contrast betwixt the mon- 
arch's outward appearance and his real character. 
The Eastern tale-teller has for his theme the dis- 
guised expeditions of Haroun Alraschid, with his 
faithful attendants Mesrour and Giafar, through the 
midnight streets of Bagdad, and Scottish tradition 
dwells upon the similar exploits of James V., distin- 



TANNER OF TAMWORTH. 23 

guished during such excursions by the travelling 
name of the Goodman of Ballengeigh, as the Com- 
mander of the Faithful, when he desired to be incog- 
nito^ was known by that of II Bondocani." 

The King and the Barker is printed in Ritson's Anc. 
Pop. Poetry, p. 61 ; the modern ballad of King Alfred 
and the Shepherd, in Old Ballads, i. 41 ; King James 
and the Tinkler, in Richardson's Borderer's Table Book, 
vii. 8, and in the Percy Soc. Publications, vol. xvii., 
Ancient Poems, Sfc. p. 109. 

" The following text is selected (with such other 
corrections as occurred) from two copies in black let- 
ter. The one in the Bodleian library, entitled A mer- 
rie, pleasant, and delectable historic betweene King 
Edivard the Fourth, and a Tanner of Tamworth, &;c., 
printed at London by John Danter, 159G. This copy, 
ancient as it now is, appears to have been modernized 
and altered at the time it was published ; and many 
vestiges of the more ancient readings were recovered 
from another copy (though more recently printed) in 
one sheet folio, without date, in the Pepys collection." 
Percy's Reliques, ii. 87. 

The old copies, according to Pitson, contain a great 
many stanzas which Percy " has not injudiciously 
suppressed." King Henry the Fourth and the Tan- 
ner of Tamivorth stands in the Registers of the Station- 
ers' Company, as licensed in 15G4-5. The Tanner 
of Tamworth is introduced into the First Part of Hey- 
wood's play of Edward the Fourth. 

IN summer time, when leaves grow greene, 

And blossoms bedecks the tree, 
King Edward wolde a hunting ryde, 

Some pastime for to see. 



24 KING EDWARD FOURTH AND THE 

With hawke and liounde he made hnn bowne, 

With home, and eke with bowe ; 
To Drayton Basset he tooke his waye, 

With all his lordes a rowe. 

And he had ridden ore dale and downe 

By eight of clocke in the day, 
When he was ware of a bold tanner, 

Come ryding along the waye. 

A fayre russet coat the tanner had on, 

Fast buttoned under his chin. 
And under him a good cow-hide. 

And a mare of four shilling.^ 

" Nowe stande you still, my good lordes all, i 

Under the grene wood spraye ; 
And I will wend to yonder fellowe. 

To weet what he will saye. 

" God speede, God speede thee," sayd our king, 
" Thou art welcome, sir," sayd hee ; 

" The readyest waye to Drayton Basset 
I praye thee to shewe to mee." 

1 In the reign of Edward IV. Dame Cecill, lady of Tor- 
boke, in her will dated March 7, A. D. 146fi, among many 
other bequests, has this : " Also I will that my sonne Thomas 
of Torboke have 13s. 4fZ. to buy him an horse." Vide Har- 
leian Catalogue, 2176, 27. — Now if 13s. 4d would purchase a 
steed fit for a person of quality, a tanner's horse might reju 
Bonably be valued at four or five shillings — Percy. 



TANNER OF TAMWORTH. 25 

" To Drayton Basset woldst thou goe 
Fro the place where thou dost stand, 

The next payre of gallowes thou comest unto, 
Turne in upon thy right hand." 

" That is an unroadye waye," sayd our king, 

" Thou doest but jest I see ; 
No we shewe me out the nearest waye, 

And I pray thee wend with mee." 

" Awaye with a vengeance ! " quoth the tanner ; 

" I hold thee out of thy witt : 
All daye have I rydden on Brocke my mare 

And I am "fasting yett." 

" Go with me downe to Drayton Basset, 

No daynties we will spare ; 
All daye shalt thou eate and drinke of the best, 

And I will paye thy fare." 

" Gramercye for nothing," the tanner replyde, 

" Thou payest no fare of mine : 
I trowe I've more nobles in my purse. 

Then thou hast pence in thine." 

" God give thee joy of them," sayd the king, 

" And send them well to priefe ; " 
The tanner wolde faine have beene away. 

For he weende he had beene a theife. 



26 KING EDWARD FOURTH AND THE 

" What art thou," hee sayde, " ihou fine fellowe ? 

Of thee I am in great feare ; 
For the cloathes thou wearest upon thy backe 

Might beseeme a lord to weare." 

"I never stole them," quoth our king, 

" I tell you, sir, by the roode ; " 
" Then thou playest, as many an unthrift doth, 

And standest in midds of thy goode."^ 

" "What tydinges heare you," sayd the kynge, 

" As you ryde farre and neare ? " 
" I heare no tydinges, sir, by the masse. 

But that cowe-hides are deare." 

" Cowe-hides ! cowe-hides ! what things are those? 

I marvell what they bee ? " 
" What, art thou a foole ?" the tanner reply'd ; 

" I carry one under mee." 

" What craftsman art thou ? " sayd the king ; 

" I praye thee tell me trowe : " 
" I am a barker, sir, by my trade ; 

Nowe tell me what art thou ? " 

" I am a poore courtier, sir," quoth he, 
" That am forth of service worne ; 

1 i. e. hast no other wealth, but what thou carriest about 
thee. — Percy. 



TANNER OF TAMWORTH. 27 

And faine I wolde thy prentise bee, 
Thy cunninge for to learne." 

" Marrye heaven forfend," the tanner replyde, 

" That thou my prentise were ; 
Thou woldst spend more good than I shold winne 

By fortye shilling a yere." 

" Yet one thinge wolde I," sayd our king, 

" If thou wilt not seeme strange ; 
Thoughe my horse be better than thy mare, 

Yet with thee I faine wold change." 

"Why if with me thou faine wilt change, 

As change full well maye wee. 
By the faith of ray bodye, thou proude fellowe, 

I will have some boot of thee." 

" That were against reason," sayd the king, 

" I sweare, so mote I thee ; 
My horse is better than thy mare. 

And that thou well mayst see." 

" Yea, sir, but Brocke is gentle and mild, 

And softly she will fare ; 
Thy horse is unruly e and wild, i-wiss. 

Aye skipping here and theare." 

" What boote wilt thou have ? " our king reply'd ; 
" Now tell me in this stound ; " 



28 KING EDWARD FOURTH AND THE 

" Noe pence, nor half-pence, by my faye, 
But a noble in gold so round." 

" Here's twentye groates of white moneye, 

Sith thou wilt have it of mee;" 
" I would have sworne now," quoth the tanner, 

" Thou hadst not had one pennie. 

" But since we two have made a change, 

A change we must abide ; 
Although thou hast gotten Brocke my mare, 

Thou gettest not my cowe-hide." 

" I will not have it," sayd the kynge, 

" I sweare, so mought I thee ; 
Thy foule cowe-hide I wolde not beare, 

If thou woldst give it to mee." 

The tanner hee tooke his good cowe-hide, 

That of the cow was hilt, 
And threwe it upon the king's sadelle, 

That was soe fayrelye gilte. 

" Now help me up, thou fine fellowe, 

'Tis time that I were gone : 
"When I come home to Gyllian my wife, 

Sheel say I am a gentilmon." 

The king he tooke him up by the legge, 
The tanner a f** lett fall ; 



TANNER OF TAMWORTH. 29 

'* Nowe manye, good fellowe," sajd the kyng , 
'• Thy coLirtesye is but smalL" 

"When the tanner he was in the kinges sadelle, 

And his foote in his stirrup was, 
He marvelled greatlje in his minde, 

Whether it were golde or brass. 

But when his steede saw the cows taile wagge, 

And eke the blacke cowe-horne, 
fle stamped, and stared, and awaye he ranne. 

As the devill had him borne. 

The tanner he pulld, the tanner he sweat, 

And held by the pummil fast ; 
At length the tanner came tumbling downe, 

His necke he had well-nye brast. 

" Take thy horse again with a vengeance," he 
sayd, 

" With mee he shall not byde ; " 
" My horse wolde have borne thee well enoughe, 

But he knewe not of thy cowe-hide. 

'* Yet if againe thou faine woldst change, 

As change full well may wee, 
6y the faith of my bodye, thou jolly tanner, 

I will have some boote of thee.*' 

" What boote wilt thou have ? " the tanner replyd, 
" Nowe tell me in this stounde ; 



30 Kl^^G EDWARD FOURTH AND THE 

" Noe pence nor half-pence, sir, by ray faye, 
But I will have twentye pound." 

" Here's twentye groates out of my purse, 

And twentye I have of thine ; 
And I have one more, which we will spend 

Together at the wine." 

The king set a bugle home to his mouthe, 
And blewe both loude and shrille ; 

And soone came lords, and soone came knights, 
Fast ryding over the hille. 

^* Nowe, out alas," the tanner he cryde, 

" That ever I sawe this daye ! 
Thou art a strong tliiefe ; yon come thy fellowes 

Will beare my cowe-hide away." 

" They are no thieves," the king replyde, 

" I sweare, soe mote I thee ; 
But they are lords of the north country, 

Here come to hunt with mee." 

And soone before our king they came, 
And knelt downe on the grounde ; 

Then might the tanner have beene awaye, 
He had lever than twentye pounde. 

** A coller, a coller, here," sayd the king, 
"A coller," he loud gan crye ; 



TANNER OF TAMWORTH. 31 

Then Avoulde he lever then twentje pound, 
He had not beene so nighe. 

" A coller ! a coller ! " the tanner he sayd, 

" I trowe it will breed sorrowe ; 
After a coller commeth a halter ; 

I trow I shall be hang'd to-morrowe." 

" Be not afraid, tanner," said our king ; 

" I tell thee, so mought I thee, 
Lo here I make thee the best esquire 

That is in the North countrie.^ 

" For Plumpton-parke I will give thee, 

With tenements faire beside, — 
*Tis worth three hundred markes by the yeare,— 

To maintaine thy good cow-hide." 

1 This stanza is restored from a quotation of this ballad 
in Selden's Titles of Honour, who produces it as a good au- 
thority to prove, that one mode of creating Esquires at that 
time, was by the imposition of a collar. His words are, 
" Nor is that old pamphlet of the Tanner of Tamworth and 
King Edward the Fourth so contemptible, but that wee may 
thence note also an observable passage, wherein the use of 
making Esquires, by giving collars, is expressed." (Sub. 
Tit. Esquire; & vide in Spelmanni Glossar. Armi(/er.) This 
form of creating Esquires actually exists at this day among 
the Sergeants at Arms, who are invested with a collar (which 
they wear on Collar Days) by the King himself. 

This information I owe to Samuel Pegge, Esq., to whom 
the public is indebted for that curious work, the Curialia, 4to. 
— Percy. 



32 THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 

" Gramercye, my liege," the tanner replyde ; 

'* For the favour thou hast me showne, 
If ever thou comest to merry Tamworth, 

Neates leather shall clout thy shoen." 



THE KING AND jVOLLER OF MANSFIELD. 

" The following is printed, with corrections from 
the Editor's folio MS. collated with an old black-letter 
copy in the Pepys collection, entitled A pleasant hal 
lad of King Henry II. and the Miller of Mansfield, 
^c." — Percy's Reliques, iii. 22. 

Other copies, slightly different, in A Collection of 
Old Ballads^ i. 63, and Ritson's Ancient Songs, ii. 173. 

PART THE FIRST. 

IIknry, our royall king, would ride a hunting 
To the greene forest so pleasant and faire ; 
To see the harts skipping, and dainty does trip- 
ping, 
IJnto merry Sherwood his nobles repaire: 
Hawke and hound were unbound, all things pre- 

par'd 
For the game, in the same, with good regard. 

All a long summers day rode the king pleasant- 
lye, 
With all his princes and nobles eche one ; 



THE KING AND MILLKR OF MANSFIELD. 33 

Chasing the hart and hind, and the bucke gallant- 
lye, 

Till the dark evening forc'd all to turne home. 
Then at last, riding fast, he had lost quite 
All his lords in the wood, late in the niglit. 

[downe, 
Wandering thus wearilye, all alone, up and 

With a rude miller he mett at the last ; 
Asking the ready way unto faire Nottingham, 
" Sir," quoth the miller, " I meane not to jest, 
Yet I thinke, what I thinke, sooth for to say; 
You doe not lightlye ride out of your way.^' 

" Why, what dost thou think of me," quoth our 
king merrily, 
" Passing thy judgment upon me so briefe ? " 
'* Good faith," sayd the miller, '' I mean not to 
flatter thee, 
I guess thee to bee but some gentleman thiefe ; 
Stand thee backe, in the darke ; light not adowne, 
Lest that I presentlye crack thy knaves crov\me." 

" Thou dost abuse me much," quoth the king, 
" saying thus ; 
I am a gentleman ; lodging I lacke." 
" Thou hast not," quoth th' miller, " one groat in 
thy purse ; 
All thy inheritance hanges on thy backe." 
*' I have gold to discharge all that I call ; 
If it be forty pence, I will pay aU." 
VOL. vin. 3 



84 THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 

" If thou beest a true man," then quoth the miller, 
'* I sweare by my toll-dish, I'll lodge thee all 

night." 
" Here's my hand," quoth the king ; " that was I 

ever." 
" Nay, soft," quoth the miller, " thou may'st be a 

sprite. 
Better I'll know thee, ere hands we will shake ; 
With none but honest men hands will I take." 

Thus they went all along unto the millers house, 
Where they were seething of puddings and 

souse ; 
The miller first enter'd in, after him went the 

king ; 
Never came hee in soe smoakye a house. 
" Now," quoth hee, " let me see here what you 

are : " 
Quoth the king, " Looke yoar fill, and doe not 

spare." 

" I like well thy countenance, thou hast an honest 
face : 
With my son Richard tliis night thou shall 
lye." 
Quoth his wife, " By my troth, it is a handsome 
youth. 
Yet it's best, husband, to deal warilye. 
Art thou no run-away, prythee, youth, tell ? 
Shew me thy passport, and all shal be well." 



THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 35 

Then our king presentlye, making lowe cour- 
tesye, 

With his hatt in his hand, thus he did say ; 
" I have no passport, nor never was servitor, 

But a poor courtyer, rode out of my way : 
And for your kindness here offered to mee, 
I will requite you in everye degree." 

Then to the miller his wife whisper'd secretlye, 
Saying, " It seemeth, this youth's of good kin, 

Both by his apparel, and eke by his manners ; 
To turne him out, certainlye were a great sin." 

"Yea," quoth hee, "you may see he hath some 
grace, 

When he doth speak e to his betters in place." 

"Well," quo' the millers wife, "young man, ye're 

welcome here ; 
And, though I say it, well lodged shall be : 
Fresh straw will I have laid on thy bed so 

brave. 
And good brown hempen sheets likewise," quoth 

shee. 
" Aye," quoth the good man ; " and when that isj 

done, 
Thou shalt lye with no worse than our own 

Sonne." 

*• Nay, first," quoth Richard, " good-fellowe, tell 
me true, 
Hast thou noe creepers within thy gay hose ? 



36 THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 

Or art thou not troubled with the scabbado ? " 
" I pray," quoth the king, " what creatures are 

those ? " 
" Art thou not lowsy nor scabby ? " quoth he : 
" If thou beest, surely thou lyest not with mee.'' 

This caus'd the king, suddenlye, to laugh most 
heartilye, 
Till the teares trickled fast downe from his 
eyes. 
Then to their supper were they set orderly e, 

With hot bag-puddings, and good apple-pyes ; 
Nappy ale, good and stale, in a browne bowle, 
Which did about the board merrilye trqwle. 

" Here," quoth the miller, " good fellowe, I drinke 
to thee, 
And to all courtnalls that coui-teous be." 
" I pledge thee," quoth our king, " and thanke 
thee heartilye 
For my good welcome in everye degree : 
And here, in like manner, I drinke to thy sonne.' 
" Do then," quoth Richard, " and quicke let it 
come." 

"Wife," quoth the miller, "fetch me forth light- 
foote, 
And of his sweetnesse a little we'll taste." 
A fair ven'son pasty e brought she out presently e, 
" Eate," quoth the miller, " but, sir, makcj no 
waste. 



THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 37 

" Here's dainty lightfoote ! " " In faith," sayd 

the king, 
" I never before eat so daintye a thing." 

" I-wis," quoth Richard, " no daintye at all it is. 

For we doe eate of it everye day." 
" In what place," sayd our king, " may be bought 

like to this ? " 
" We never pay pennye for itt, by my fay : 
From merry Sherwood we fetch it home here ; 
Now and then we make bold with our kings 

deer." 

" Then I thinke," sayd our king, " that it is veni- 
son." 
" Eche foole," quoth Richard, " full well may 
know that: 
Never are wee without two or three in the roof. 

Very well fleshed, and excellent fat : 
But, pry thee, say nothing wherever thou goe ; 
We would not, for two pence, the king should it 
knowe." 

" Doubt not," then sayd the king, " my promist 
secresye ; 
The king shall never know more on't for 
mee : " 
A cupp of lambs-wool they dranke unto him 
then, 
And to their bedds they past presentlie. 



38 THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 

The nobles, next morning, went all up and 

down, 
For to seeke out the king in everye towne. 

At last, at the millers *cott,' soone they espy'd 
him out. 
As he was mounting upon his faire steede ; 
To whom they came presently, falling down on 
their knee ; 
Which made the millers heart wofully bleede ; 
Shaking and quaking, before him he stood. 
Thinking he should have been hang'd, by the 
rood. 

The king perceiving him fearfully trembling, 
Drew forth his sword, but nothing he sed : 

The miller downe did fall, crying before them all, 
Doubtino; the kin<r would have cut off his head. 

But he his kind courtesye for to requite, 

Gave him great living, and dubb'd him a knight. 



PART THE SECONDE. 

When as our royall king came home from Not- 
tingham, 
And with his nobles at Westminster lay. 
Recounting the sports and pastimes they had 
taken, 
In this late progress along on the way, 



THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 39 

Of them all, great and small, he did protest, 
The miller of Mansfields sport liked him best. 

" And now, my lords," quoth the king, " I am de- 
termined 
Against St. Georges next sumptuous feast, 
That this old miller, our new confirm'd knight, 

With his son Richard, shall here be my guest : 
For, in this merry men t, 'tis my desire 
To talke with the jolly knight, and the young 
squire." 

When as the noble lords saw the kinges pleas- 
antness. 
They were right joyfull and glad in their 
hearts : 
A pursuivant there was sent straighte on the 
business. 
The which had often-times been in those parts. 
When he came to the place where they did dwell, 
His message orderly e then 'gan he tell. 

" God save your worshippe," then said the mes- 
senger, 
" And grant your ladye her own hearts desire ; 
And to your sonne Richard good fortune and hap- 
piness. 
That sweet, gentle, and gallant young squire. 
Our king greets you well, and thus he doth say, 
You must ccme to the court on St. George's day. 



40 THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 

'' Therefore, in any case, faile not to be in place." 
"I-wis," quoth the miller, "this is an odd jest: 
What should we doe there ? faith, I am halfe 
afraid." 
" I doubt," quoth Richard, " to be hang'd at the 
least." 
*' Nay," quoth the messenger, " you doe mistake ; 
Our king he provides a great feast for your sake." 

Then sayd the miller, " By my troth, messenger. 
Thou hast contented my worshippe full well : 

Hold, here are three farthings, to quite thy gen- 
tleness. 
For these happy tydings which thou dost tell. 

Let me see, hear thou mee ; tell to our king, 

"We'll wayt on his mastershipp in everye thing." 

The pursuivant smiled at their simplicitye. 
And making many leggs, tooke their reward. 

And his leave taking with great humilitye, 
To the kings court againe he repaired ; 

Shewing unto his grace, merry and free. 

The knightes most liberall gift and bountie. 

When he was gone away, thus gan the miller 
say: 
" Here come expences and charges indeed ; 
Now must we needs be brave, tho' we spend all 
we have, 
For of new garments we have great need. 



THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 4 J 

Of horses and serving-men we must have store, 
With bridles and saddles, and twentje things 
more." 

" Tushe, Sir John," quoth his wife, " why should 
you frett or frowne ? 
You shall ne'er be att no charges for mee ; 
For I will turne and trim up my old russet 
gowne, 
With everye thing else as fine as may bee ; 
And on our mill-horses swift we will ride, 
With pillowes and pannells, as we shall provide." 

In this most statelye sort, rode they unto the 
court ; 
Their jolly sonne Richard rode foremost of all. 
Who set up, for good hap,^ a cocks feather in his 
cap. 
And so they jetted downe to the kings hall ; 
The merry old miller with hands on his side ; 
His wife like maid Marian^ did mmce at that 
tide. 

The king and his nobles, that heard of their com- 



1 for good hap: i. e. for good luck; they were going on a 
hazardous expedition. P. 

2 Maid Marian in the Morris dance, was represented by 
9 man in woman's clothes, who was to take short steps in 
•rder to sustain the female character. P. 



42 XnE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 

Meeting this gallant knight with his brave 
traine, 
" Welcome, sir knight," quoth he, " with your gay- 
lady ; 
Good Sir John Cockle, once welcome againe ; 
And so is the squire of courage soe free." 
Quoth Dicke, " A bots on you ! do you know 
mee ? " 

Quoth our king gently e, " How should I forget 

thee? 

That wast my owne bed-fellowe, well it I wot." 

" Yea, siiV quoth E-ichard, " and by the same 

token, 

Thou with thy farting didst make the bed hot." 

" Thou whore-son unhappy knave," then quoth 

the knight, 
" Speake cleanly to our king, or else go sh***." 

The king and his courtiers laugh at this heartily, 
While the king taketh them both by the hand ; 

With the court-dames and maids, like to the 
queen of spades, 
The millers wife did soe orderly stand, 

A milk-maids courtesye at every word ; 

And downe all the folkes were set to the board. 

There the king royally, in princelye majestye. 

Sate at his dinner with joy and delight ; 
When tliey had eaten well, then he to jesting fell, 



THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 43 

And in a bowle of wine dranke to the knight ; 
" Here's to you both, in wine, ale, and beer ; 
Thanking you heartilye for my good cheer." 

Quoth Sir John Cockle, " I'll pledge you a pottle, 
Were it the best ale in Nottinghamshire : " 

But then said our king, ' Now I think of a thing ; 
vSome of your lightfoote I would we had here." 

" Ho ! ho! " quoth Richard, " full well I may say it 

'Tis knavery to eate it, and then to betray it." 

" Why art thou angry ? " quoth our king mer- 
rilye ; 
" In faith, I take it now very unkind : 
I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and wine 
heartily." 
Quoth Dicke, " You are like to stay till I have 
din'd : 
You feed us with twatling dishes soe small ; 
Zounds, a blacke-pudding is better than all." 

" Aye, marry," quoth . our king, " that were a 
daintye thing, 
Could a man get but one here for to eate : " 
With that Dicke straite arose, and pluckt one from 
his hose. 
Which with heat of his breech gan to sweate. 
The king made a proffer to snatch it away : — 
" 'Tis meat for your master : good sir, you must 
stay." 



4:4 THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 

Thus in great merriment was the time wholly 
spent, 
And then the ladyes prepared to dance : 
Old Sir John Cockle, and Richard, incontinent 

Unto their places the king did advance. 
Here with the ladyes such sport they did make, 
The nobles with lau^jhinoj did make their sides 
ake. 



Many thankes for their paines did the king give 
them. 
Asking young Richard then, if he would wed ; 
" Among these ladyes free, tell me which liketh 
thee ? " 
Quoth he, " Jugg Grumball, Sir, with the red 
head, 
She's my love, she's my life, her will I wed ; 
She hath sworn I shall have her maidenhead." 

Then Sir John Cockle the king call'd unto him, 
And of merry Sherwood made him o'erseer, 
And gave him out of hand three hundred pound 
y early e : 
" Take heed now you Steele no more of my 
deer ; 
And once a quarter let's here have your view ; 
And now, Sir John Cockle, I bid you adieu." 



GERXUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 45 

GEKN'UTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 

Percy's Rellqnes, i. 224. 

In Douce's Illustrations of Shakespeare, (i. 278,) 
iind Mabne's Shakespeare, (v. 3, 154, ed. 1821,) we are 
referred to a great many stories resembling that of the 
present ballad. Two or three of these are fomid in 
the Persian, and there can be no doubt that the orig- 
inal tale is of eastern invention. The oldest Euro- 
pean forms of the story are in the Gesfa Ronianorum, 
(Wright's Latin Stories, Percy Soc. viii. 114, Madden's 
Old English Versions, p. 130,) the French romance 
of Dolopathos (v. 7096, et seq.), and the Pecorone of 
Ser Giovanni Fiorentino, written in 1378, but not 
printed till 1558. 

Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice is known to have 
been played before 1598, and there is some reason to 
believe that it was produced as early as 1594. The 
resemblance in many particulars between the play 
and the narrative in the Pecorone is conclusive to the 
fact that Shakespeare was acquainted with the Italian 
novel, directly or by a translation. In Gosson's 
School of Abuse, (1579,) mention is made of a play 
called The Jew, in which was represented " the 
greediness of worldly choosers, and bloody minds of 
usurers." It is possible that Shakespeare may have 
made use of the incidents of this forgotten piece in 
the construction of his plot, but as our knowledge of 
the older play amounts literally to the description of it 
given by Gosson, nothing positive is to be said on that 



46 GERNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 

point. Sllvayn's Orator^ translated from the French 
by Anthony Munday in 1596, affords the earliest dis- 
covered jjrinted notice, in English, of the bond and 
forfeiture, in a " Declamation, Of a Jew, who would 
for his debt have a pound of flesh of a Christian ; '* 
and a striking coincidence between the Jew's plea 
for the execution of the contract, and the reasoning 
of Sliylock before the Senate, may be regarded by 
some as of weight sufficient to offset the evidence pre- 
sented to show that the Merchant of Venice was on 
the stage in 1594. 

No dated copy of the ballad of Gernutus is known. 
It is on the whole more likely that the ballad is 
older than Shakespeare's comedy, but it may have 
been called forth by the popularity of that very piece. 
To judge by the first stanza alone, the writer had 
derived his materials from an Italian novel. 

We give in the Appendix another ballad, present- 
ing considerable diversity in the incidents, which we 
presume to be the one mentioned by Douce under the 
title of The Cruel Jews Garland, 

In 1664, we are informed by Mr. Collier, Thomas 
Jordan made a ballad out of the story of the Merchant 
of Venice^ in his Boyal Arbor of Loyal Poesie, takini 
some liberties with the original plot. 

The following was printed from an ancient black- 
letter copy in the Pepys collection, (compared with 
the Ashmole copy,) entitled, 
" A new Song, shewing the crueltie of ' Gernutus, a 

Jewe,' w^ho, lending to a merchant an hundred 

crowns, would have a pound of his fleshe, because 

he could not pay him at the time appointed. To 

the tune of Black and Yellow" 



GERKUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 47 



THE FIRST PART. 

In Venice towne not long agoe 

A cruel Jew did dwell, 
Which lived all on usurie, 

As Italian writers tell. 

Gernutus called was the Jew, 
Which never thought to dye. 

Nor ever yet did any good 
To them in streets that lie. 

His life was like a barrow hogge, 

That liveth many a day, 
Yet never once doth any good. 

Until men will him slay. 

Or like a filthy heap of dung, 

That lyeth in a whoard ; 
Which never can do any good, 

Till it be spread abroad. 

So fares it with the usurer. 

He cannot sleep in rest 
For feare the thiefe will him pursue, 

To plucke him from his nest. 

His heart doth thinke on many a wile 
How to deceive the poore ; 



48 GERNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 

His mouth is almost ful of mucke, 
Yet still be gapes for more. 

His wife must lend a shilling, 

For every weeke a penny ; 
Yet bring a pledge that is double worth, 

If that you will have any. 

And see, hkewise, you keepe your day, 

Or else you loose it all : 
This was the living of the wife, 

Her cow she did it call. 

Within that citie dwelt that time 

A marchant of great fame, 
Which being distressed in his need, 

Unto Gernutus came : 

Desiring him to stand his fiiend 
For twelvemonth and a day ; 

To lend to him an hundred crownes ; 
And he for it would pay 

Whatsoever he would demand of him, 
And pledges he should have : 

" No," quoth the Jew, with flearing lookes, 
" Sir, aske what you will have. 

" No penny for the loane of it 
For one year you shall pay ; 



GERNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 49 

You may doe me as good a turne, 
Before my dying day. 

** But we will have a merry jeast, 

For to be talked long : 
You shall make me a bond," quoth he, 

" That shall be large and strong. 

*' And this shall be the forfeyture, — 

Of your owne fleshe a pound : 
If you agree, make you the bond, 

And here is a hundred crownes." 

" With right good will," the marchant he says. 

And so the bond was made. 
When twelve month and a day drew on, 

That backe it should be payd. 

The marchants ships were all at sea, 

And money came not in ; 
Which way to take, or what to doe. 

To thinke he doth begin. 

And to Gernutus strait he comes, 

With cap and bended knee ; 
And sayde to him, " Of curtesie, 

I pray you beare with mee. 

'* My day is come, and 1 have not 
The money for to pay ; 
VOL. VIII. 4 



50 GERNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 

And little good the forfeyture 
Will doe you, I dare say." 

" With all my heart," Gernutus sayd, 

" Commaund it to your minde : 
In thinges of bigger waight then this 

You shall me ready finde." 

He goes his way ; the day once past, 

Gernutus doth not slacke 
To get a sergiant presently. 

And clapt him on the backe. 

And layd him into prison strong, 

And sued his bond withall ; 
And when the judgement day was come, 

For judgement he did call. 

The marchants friends came thither fast, 

With many a weeping eye, 
For other means they could not find, 

But he that day must dye. 

THE SECOND PART. 

Of the Jews crueltie ; setting foorth the merciful- 
nesse of the Judge towards the Marchant. To the 
tune of Black and Yellow. 

Some offered for his hundred crownes 
Five-hundred for to pay; 



GERNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 51 

And some a thousand, two or three, 
Yet still he did denay. 

And at the last ten thousand crownes 

They offered, him to save ; 
Gernutus sayd, " I will no gold, 

My forfeite I will have. 

* A pound of fleshe is my demand. 

And that shall be my hire." 
Then sayd the judge, "Yet, good my friend, 

Let me of you desire 

" To take the fleshe from such a place, 

As yet you let him live : 
Do so, and lo ! an hundred crownes 

To thee here will I give." 

" No, no," quoth he, " no, judgement here 

For this it shall be tride ; 
For I will have my pound of fleshe 

From under his ri<2;ht side." 



o 



It grieved all the companie 

His crueltie to see, 
For neither friend nor foe could heipe 

But he must spoyled bee. 

The bloudie Jew now ready is 
With whetted blade in hand, 



52 GERNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 

To spoyle the bloud of innocent, 
By forfeit of his bond. 

And as he was about to strike 

In him the deadly blow, 
^ Stay," quoth the judge, " thy crueltie ; 

I charge thee to do so. 

" Sith needs thou wilt thy forfeit have, 

Which is of flesh a pound, 
See that thou shed no drop of bloud, 

Nor yet the man confound. 

" For if thou doe, like murderer 

Thou here shalt hanged be : 
Likewise of flesh see that thou cut 

No more than longes to thee. 

" For if thou take either more or lesse, 

To the value of a mite. 
Thou shalt be hanged presently, 

As is both law and right." 

Gernutus now waxt franticke mad, 

And wotes not what to say ; 
Quoth he at last, " Ten thousand crownes 

I will that he shall pay ; 

"And so I graunt to set him free." 
The judge doth answere make ; 



GURNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 53 

" You shall not have a penny given ; 
Your forfeiture now take." 

At the last he doth demaund 

But for to have his owne : 
*'No," quoth the judge, " doe as you list, 

Thy judgement shall be showne. 

" Either take your pound of flesh," quoth he, 

" Or cancell me your bond : " 
"0 cruell judge," then quoth the Jew, 

" That doth against me stand ! " 

And so with griping^ grieved mind 

He biddeth them fare-well : 
Then all the people prays'd the Lord, 

That ever this heard tell. 

Good people, that doe heare this song, 

For trueth I dare well say, 
That many a wretch as ill as hee 

Doth live now at this day ; 

That seeketh nothing but the spoyle 

Of many a wealthy man. 
And for to trap the innocent 

Deviseth what they can. 

1 griped, Ashmole copy. 



54 THE FROLTCKSOME DUKE ; OR 

From whome the Lord deliver me, 

And every Christian too, 
And send to them like sentence eke 

That meaneth so to do. 



THE FROLICKSOME DUKE; OR THE 
TINKER'S GOOD FORTUNE. 

Percy's Meltques, i. 255. 

The story of this ballad, like that of the preceding, 
was probably derived from the east. It is the same as 
the tale of The Sleeper Awakened in the Arabian 
Nights, and a like incident is found also in the tale 
of Xailoun in the Continuation of the Arabian Nights. 
Interpolations from Em'opean sources are said to have 
been made by the translators both of the Arabian 
Nights and of the Continuation^ and it has teen sug- 
gested that The Sleeper Awakened is one of these. 
{Gent. Mag. 64, I. 527.) It is even true that this 
story does not occur in the manuscript used by Gal- 
land. It is found, however, in one manuscript, and is 
accordingly admitted into the recent version. — Marco 
Polo relates that Ala-eddln, " the Old Man of the 
Mountain," was accustomed to employ a device re- 
sembling that of the ballad, to persuade his youthful 
votaries of his power to transport them to Paradise. 
(Chap. xxi. of Marsden's translation.) A similai 
anecdote is told as historically true by the Arabic 
writer El-Is-hakee, who printed his work in the early 



THE TINKER S GOOD FORTUNE. 00 

part of the 17th century (Lane's Thousand and One 
Nights, ii. 376), while in Europe the story is related 
of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, by Heuterus, 
Rerum Burgund. lib. iv. ; of the Emperor Charles the 
Fifth, by Sir Richard Barckley, in A Discourse on the 
Felicitie of Man, 1598 ; and of the Marquess of "Wor- 
cester, in The Apothegms of King James, King Charles^ 
the Marquess of Worcester, ^c. 1658. Warton had 
seen among Collins's books a collection of prose tales 
in black-letter, dated 1570, among which was this 
story. It was until lately, and no doubt is still, 
found in the stalls, under the title of The FroUcksome 
Courtier and the Jovial Tinker. (See Douce's Illus- 
trations, and Malone's Shakespeare.^ 

Which of the many forms of the story was known 
to the author of the old play of The Taming of a 
Shreiu, on which Shakespeare's comedy is founded, it 
would be more difficult than important to determine. 
Mr. Halliwell mentions a Dutch comedy, called Drank- 
ken Hansje, (1657,) having the plot of the Induction 
to these plays. 

This ballad was given from a black-letter copy in 
the Pepys collection. 

Now as fame does report, a young duke keeps 

a court, 
One that pleases his fancy with frolicksome sport : 
But amongst all the rest, here is one I protest, 
Which will make you to smile when you hear the 

true jest : 
A poor tinker he found, lying drunk on the 

ground, 
4s secure in sleep as if laid in a swound. 



56 THE FROLTCKSOME DUKE ; OR 

The duke said to his men, " William, Richard, 

and Ben, 
Take him home to my palace, we'll sport with 

him then." 
O'er a horse he was laid, and with care soon con- 

vey'd 
To the palace, altho' he was poorly arrai'd : 
Then they stript off his cloaths, both his shirt, 

shoes, and hose, 
And they put him to bed for to take his repose. 

Having pull'd off his shirt, which was all over 

durt. 
They did give him clean holland, this was no 

great hurt : 
On a bed of soft down, like a lord of renown, 
They did lay him to sleep the drink out of his 

crown. 
In the morning, when day, then admiring he lay, 
For to see the rich chamber, both gaudy and gay. 

Now he lay something late, in his rich bed of 

state, 
Till at last knights and squires they on him did 

wait ; 
And the chamberlain bare, then did likewise de« 

clare, 
He desired to know what apparel he'd ware : 
The poor tinker amaz'd, on the gentleman gaz'd, 
And admired how he to this honour was rais'd. 



THE TINKER'S GOOD FORTUNE. 57 

Tho' he seem'd sometliing mute, yet he chose a 
rich suit, 

Which he straitways put on without longer dis- 
pute, 

"With a star on his side, which the tinker offt ey'd. 

And it seem'd for to swell him * no ' little with 
pride ; 

For he said to himself, " Where is Joan ray swec t 
wife ? 

Sure she never did see me so fine in her life." 

From a convenient place, the right duke, his good 

grace, 
Did observe his behaviour in every case. 
To a garden of state, on the tinker they wait. 
Trumpets sounding before him : thought he, this 

is great : 
Where an hour or two, pleasant walks he did 

view, 
With commanders and squires in scarlet and 

blew. 

A fine dinner was drest, both for him and his 

guests ; 
He was plac'd at the table above all the rest. 
In a rich chair * or bed,' lin'd with fine crimson 

red, 
With a rich golden canopy over his head : 
As he sat at his meat, the musick play'd sweet. 
With the choicest of singing his joys to compleat. 



58 THE FROLICKSOME DUKE ; OR 

While the linker did dine, he had plenty of wine, 
Rich canary, with sherry and tent superfine. 
Like a right honest soul, faith, he took off his 

bowl, 
Till at last he began for to tumble and roul 
From his chair to the floor, where he sleeping did 

snore, 
Being seven times drunker than ever before. 

Then the duke did ordain, they should strip him 

amain. 
And restore him his old leather garments again : 
'Twas a point next the worst, yet perform it they 

must. 
And they carry 'd him strait, where they found 

him at first, 
Then he slept all the night, as indeed well he 

might ; 
But when he did waken, his joys took their flight 

For his glory ' to him ' so pleasant did seem. 
That he thought it to be but a meer golden 

dream ; 
Till at length he was brought to the duke, where 

he sought 
For a pardon, as fearing he had set him at nought. 
But his highness he said, " Thou'rt a jolly bold 

blade : 
Such a frolick before I think never was plaid." 



THE tinker's good FORTUNE. 59 

Then his highness bespoke him a new suit and 

cloak, 
Which he gave for the sake of this frolicksome 

joak, 
Nay, and five hundred pound, with tep acres of 

ground : 
" Thou shalt never," said he, " range the counter- 

ies round, 
Crying old brass to mend, for I'll be thy good 

friend, 
Nay, and Joan thy sweet wife shall ray duchess 

attend." 

Then the tinker repl/d, " What ! must Joan my 
sweet bride 

Be a lady in chariots of pleasure to ride ? 

Must we have gold and land ev'ry day at com- 
mand ? 

Then I shall be a squire, I well understand. 

Well I thank your good grace, and your love I 
embrace ; 

I was never before in so happy a case." 



50 THE HEIR OF LINNE. 



THE HEIR OF LINNE. 

Percy's Reliques, ii. 135. 

" The onginal of this ballad," says Percy, "is found 
in tlie Editor's folio MS., the breaches and defects in 
which, rendered the insertion of supplemental stanzas 
necessary. These it is hoped the reader will pardon, 
as indeed the completion of the story was suggested 
by a modern ballad on a similar subject. From the 
Scottish phrases here and there discernible in this 
poem, it would seem to have been originally composed 
beyond the Tweed." 

The modern ballad here mentioned is probably The 
Drunkard's Legacy, printed from an old chap-book, in 
Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs, p. 151, Percy So- 
ciety, vol. xvii. The Scottish version of the Heir of 
Linne is annexed to the present in the only form in 
which it is now to be obtained. 

The incident by which the hidden treasure is discov- 
ered in this ballad, occurs (as observes a writer in the 
British Bibliographer, iv. 182) in a story of Cinthio's, 
Heccaiomithi, Dec. ix. no v. 8 : but the argument of 
that story is in other respects different, being in fact 
the following epigram : 

Xfwadv avrjp evpuv^ e/U7re ^poxov avrap o xpvaov, 
by ?UKev, ovx svpo^v, 7j\pEV bv cvpe jSpoxov. 

Brunck's Anthologia, vol. i. p. 106. 



THE HEIR OF LINNE. 61 



PART THE FIRST. 



Lithe and listen, gentlemen, 
To sing a song I will beginne : 

It is of a lord of faire Scotland, 

Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne. 

His father was a right good lord, 
His mother a lady of high degree ; 

But they, alas ! were dead him froe, 
And he lov'd keeping companie. 

To spend the daye with merry cheare, 
To drinke and revell every night, 

To card and dice from eve to morne, 
It was, I ween, his hearts delighte. 

To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare, 
To ahvaye spend and never spare, 

I wott, an' it were the king himselfe, 
Of gold and fee he mote be bare. 

Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne 
Till all his gold is gone and spent ; 

And he maun sell his landes so broad, 
His house, and landes, and all his rent. 

His father had a keen stewarde. 

And John o' the Scales was called hee : 



d2 the heir of linne. 

But John is become a gentel-man, 
And John has gott both gold and fee. 

Sayes, " Welcome, welcome, Lord of Lmne, 
Let nought disturb thy merry cheere ; 

Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad. 
Good store of gold He give thee heere." 

"My gold is gone, my money is spent ; 

My lande nowe take it unto thee : 
Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales, 

And thine for aye my lande shall bee." 

Then John he did him to record draw. 
And John he cast him a gods-pennie ;^ 

But for every pound e that John agreed, 
The lande, i-was, was well worth three. 

He told him the gold upon the borde, 
He was right glad his land to winne ; 

" The gold is thine, the land is mine. 
And now He be the lord of Linne." 

Thus he hath sold his land soe broad. 
Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne. 



1 i. e. earnest-money; from tlie French denier a Dieu 
At this day, when ajiphcution Is made to the Dean and Chap- 
ter of Carlisle to accept an exchange of the tenant under 
one of their leases, a piece of silver is presented, by the new 
t€'nant, which is still called a God's-penny. Pebcy. 



THE HEIR OF LINNE. 65 

411 but a poore and lonesome lodge, 
That stood far off in a lonely glenne. 

For soe he to his father hight. 

" My Sonne, when I am gonne,'* sayd hee, 
*' Then thou wilt spend thy lande so broad, • 

And thou wilt spend thy gold so free. 

** But sweare me nowe upon the roode, 
That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend ; 

For when all the world doth frown on thee, 
Thou there shalt find a faithful friend." 

The heire of Linne is full of golde : 

" And come with me, my friends," sayd hee, 

" Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make. 
And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee." 

They ranted, drank, and merry made, 

Till all his gold it waxed thinne ; 
And then his friendes they slunk away ; 

They left the unthrifty heire of Linne. 

He had never a penny left in his purse, 

Never a penny left but three. 
And one was brass, another was lead. 

And another it was white money. 

" Nowe well-aday," sayd the heire of Linne, 
" Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee. 



64 THE HEIR OF LINNE. 

For when I was the lord of Linne, 
I never wanted gold nor fee. 

" But many a trustye friend have I, 
And why shold I feel dole or care ? 

He bon'ow of them all by turnes, 
Soe need I not be never bare." 

But one. i-wis, was not at home ; 

Another had payd his gold away ; 
Another call'd him thriftless loone, 

And bade him sharpely wend his way. 

" Now well-aday," sayd the heire of Linne, 
" Now well-aday, and woe is me ; 

For when I had my landes so broad, 
On me they liv'd right merrilee. 

" To beg my bread from door to door, 
I-wis, it were a brenning shame ; 

To rob and steal it wei-e a sinne ; 
To worke, my limbs I cannot frame. 

" Now Tie away to [the] lonesome lodge, 
For there my father bade me wend : 

When all the world should frown on mee 
I there shold find a trusty friend." 



THE HEIR OF LINNE. 65 



PART THE SECOND. 



A. WAY then hyed the heire of Linne, 
Oer hill and holt, and moor and fenne, 

Untill he came to [the] lonesome lodge, 
That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne. 

He looked up, he looked downe, 
In hope some comfort for to winne ; 

But bare and lothly were the walles ; 

" Here's sorry cheare," quo' the heire of Linne. 

The little windowe, dim and darke. 
Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe ; 

No shimmering sunn here ever shone, 
No halesome breeze here ever blew. 

No chair, ne table he mote spye. 

No chearful hearth, ne welcome bed, 

Nought save a rope with renning noose, 
That dangling hung up o'er his head. 

And over it in broad letters. 

These words were written so plain to see : 
" Ah ! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all, 

And brought thyselfe to penurie ? 

*^ All this my boding mind misgave, 
I therefore left this trusty friend : 

VOL. YIII. 5 



CO THE HEIR OF LINNE. 

Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace, 
And all thy shame and sorrows end." 

Sorely shent wi' this rebuke, 

Sorely shent was the heire of Linne ; 
His heart, i-wis, was near to-brast 

With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne. 

Never a word spake the heire of Linne, 
Never a word he spake but three : 

" This is a trusty friend indeed, 
And is right welcome unto mee." 

Then round his necke the corde he drewe, 
And sprang aloft with his bodie, 

"When lo ! the ceiling burst in twaine, 
And to the ground come tumbling hee. 

Astonyed lay the heire of Linne, 

Ne knewe if he were live or dead : 
At length he looked, and sawe a bille, 
^ And in it a key of gold so redd. 

He took the bill, and lookt it on, 
Strait good comfort found he there : 

ttt told him of a hole in the wall, 

In which there stood three chests in-fere. 

Two were full of the beaten golde, 
The third was full of white money ; 



THE HEIR OF LINNE. 67 

And over them in broad letters 

These words vvere written so plaine to see. 

" Once more, ray sonne, I sette thee clere ; 

Amend thy life and follies past ; 
For but thou amend thee of thy life, 

That rope must be thy end at last." 

" And let it bee," sayd the heire of Linne, 

" And let it bee, but if I amend : 
For here I will make mine avow, 

This reade shall guide me to the end." 

Away then went with a merry cheare, 
Away then went the heire of Linne ; 

I-wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne, 

Till John o' the Scales house he did winne. 

And when he came to John o' the Scales, 
Upp at the speere then looked hee ; 

There sate three lords upon a rowe, 
Were drinking of the wine so free. 

And John himselfe sate at the bord-head. 
Because now lord of Linne was hee ; 
I pray thee," he said, " good John o' the Scales, 
" One forty pence for to lend mee." 

" Away, away, thou thriftless loone ; 
Away, away, this may not bee : 



68 THE HEIR OF LINNE. 

For Clirists curse on mj head," lie sayd, 
" If ever I trust thee one pennie." 

Then bespake the heire of Linne, 

To John o' the Scales wife then spake he : 

''Madame, some almes on me best owe, 
1 pray for sweet saint Charitie." 

" Away, away, thou thriftless loone, 

I sweare thou gettest no almes of mee ; 

For if we should hang any losel heere, 
The first we wold begin with thee." 

Then bespake a good fellowe, 

Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord ; 
Sayd, "Turn againe, thou heir of Linne; 

Some time thou wast a well good lord. 

" Some time a good fellow thou hast been, 
And sparedst not thy gold and fee ; 

Therefore He lend thee forty pence. 
And other forty if need bee. 

" And ever I pray thee, John o' the Scales, 
To let him sit in thy companie : 

For well I wot thou hadst his land, 
And a good bargain it was to thee.** 

Up then spake him John o' the Scales, 
All wood he answer'd him araine : 



THE HEIR OF LINNE. 69 

^ Now Christs curse on my head," lie sayd, 
" But I did lose by that bargaine. 

*' And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne, 
Before these lords so faire and free. 

Thou shalt have it backe again better cheape 
By a hundred markes than I had it of thee." 

'• I drawe you to record, lords," he said, 
With that he cast him a gods-pennie : 

" Now by my fay," sayd the heire of Linne, 
" And here, good John, is thy money." 

And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold, 
And layd them down upon the bord ; 

All woe begone was John o' the Scales, 
Soe shent he cold say never a word. 

He told him forth the good red gold. 

Pie told it forth [with] mickle dinne. 
" The gold is thine, the land is mine. 

And now Ime againe the lord of Linne." 

Sayes, " Have thou here, thou good fellowe, 

Forty pence thou didst lend mee : 
Now I am againe the lord of Linne, 

And forty pounds I will give thee. 

" He make thee keeper of ray forrest, 
Both of the wild deere and the tame ; 



70 THE HEIR OF LINNE. 

For but I reward thy bounteous heart, 
I-wis, good fellowe, I were to blame." 

" Now welladay ! " sayth Joan o' the Scales ; 

" Now welladay, and woe is my life ! 
Yesterday I was lady of Linne, 

Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife." 

" Now fare thee well," sayd the heire of Linne, 
" Farewell now, John o' the Scales," said hee : 

" Christs curse light on mee, if ever again 
I bring my lands in jeopardy." 



THE HEIR OF LINNE. 

From Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 
Percy Society, vol. xvii. 

The bonny heir, and the weel-faur'd heir, 

And the wearie heir o' Linne, 
Yonder he stands at his father's yetts, 

An naebody bids him come in. 

see for he gangs, an' see for he stands, 

The wearie heir o' Linne ; 
see for he stands on the cauld casey, 

And nae an' bids him come in. 

But if he had been his father's heir, 
Or yet the heir o' Linne, 



THE HEIR OF LINNE. 

He wou'dna stand on the cauld casey, 
Some an' wad taen him in. 

'* Sing ower again that sang, nourice, 
The sang ye sang just noo ; " 

" I never sang a sang i' my life, 
But I wad sing ower to you." 

see for he gangs, an* see for he stands, 

The wearie heir o' Linne ; 
see for he stands on the cauld casey, 

An' nae an' bids him come in. 

But if he had been his father's heir. 

Or yet the heir o' Linne, 
He wadna stand on the cauld casye, 

Some ane wad taen him in. 

When his father's lands a sellin' were, 

His claise lay weel in fauld, 
But now he wanders on the shore, 

Baith hungry, weet, and cauld. 

As Willie he gaed do^^^l the toun. 
The gentlemen were drinkin' ; 

Some bade gie Willie a glass, a glass, 
And some bade him gae nane ; 

Some bade gie Willie a glass, a glass, 
The weary heir o' Linne. 



72 THE HEIR OF LINNE. 

As Willie he cam' up the toun, 

The fishers were a sittin' ; 
Some bade gie Willie a fish, a fish, 

Some bade gie him a fin ; 
Some bade gie him a fish, a fish, 

And lat the palmer gang. 

He turned him richt and roun' about, 

As will as a woman's son. 
And taen his cane into his hand, 

And on his way to Linne. 

His nourice at her window look'd, 

Beholding dale and doun. 
And she beheld this distress'd young man 

Come walkin' to the town. 

" Come here, come here, Willie," she said, 

" And set yoursel' wi me ; 
I hae seen you i' better days. 

And in jovial companie." 

'* Gie me a sheave o' your bread, nourice, 

And a bottle o' your wine. 
And I'll pay you it a' ower again, 

When I'm the laird o' Linne." 

" Ye'se got a sheave o' my bread, Willie, 
" And a bottle o' my wine,^ 
1 yonr wine. 



THE HEIR OF LINNE. 73 

An* ye'll pay me when the seas gang dry, 
But ye'U ne'er be heir o' Linne." 

Then he tiirn'd him richt and roun' about, 

As will as woman's son ; 
And aff he set, and bent his way, 

And straightway came to Linne. 

But when he cam to that castle, 

They were set doim to dine ; 
A score o' nobles there he saw, 

Sat drinkin' at the wine. 

Then some bad' gie him beef, the beef, 

And some bad' gie him the bane ; 
And some bad' gie him naething at a*, 

But lat the palmer gang. 

Then out it speaks the new come laird, 

A saucie word spak' hee ; 
" Put roun' the cup, gie my rival a sup, 

Lat him fare on his way." 

Then out it speaks Sir Ned Magnew, 

Ane o' young Willie's kin ; 
' This youth was ance a sprightlie hoy 

As ever lived in Linne." • 

He turned him richt and roun' about, 
As will as woman's son ; 



74 THE HEIR OF LINNE. 

Then minded him on a little wee key, 
That his mither left to him. 

His mither left him this little wee key 

A little before she deed ; 
And bad him keep this little wee key 

Till he was in maist need. 

Then forth he went, an' these nobles left, 

A' drinkin' in the room ; 
Wi' walkin' rod intill his hand, 

He walked the castle roun\ 

There he found out a little door, 
For there the wee key sHppit in, 

An' there he got as muckle red gowd 
As freed the lands o' Linne. 

Back through the nobles then he went, 

A saucie man was then ; 
" I'll tak' the cup frae this new-come laird, 

For he ne'er bad me sit doun." 

Then out it speaks the new-come laird. 

He spak' wi' mock an' jeer ; 
" I'd gie a seat to the laird o' Linne, 

Sae be that" he were here. 

■* When the lands o' Linne a sellin' were, 
A' men said they were free ; 



T3E HEIR OF LIXNE. 75 

This lad shall hae them frae me this day, 
If he'll gie the third pennie." 

" I tak' ye witness, nobles a', 

Gude witnesses ye'll be ; 
Fm promis'd the lands o' Linne this day. 

If I gie the third pennie." 

" Ye've taen us witnesses, Willie," they said, 

" Gude witnesses we'll be ; 
Buy the lands o' Linne who likes. 

They'll ne'er be bought by thee." 

He's done him to a gamin* table, 

For it stood fair and clean ; 
There he tauld doun as much rich gowd 

As freed the lands o' Linne. 

Thus having done, he turn'd about, 

A saucie man was he ; 
*'Tak' up your monie, my lad," he says, 

" Tak' up your third pennie. 

" Aft hae I gane wi' barefeet cauld, 

Likewise wi' legs fu* bare. 
And mony day walk'd at these yetts 

Wi' muckle dool an' care. 

" But now my sorrow's past and gane, 
And joy's returned to me ; 



76 THE WANDERING JEW. 

And here I've gowd enough forbye, 
Ahin this third pennie." 

As WiUie he gaed doun the toun, 
There he craw'd wonderous crouse ; 

He ca'd the may afore them a', 
The nourice o' the house. 

" Come here, come here, my nurse," he says, 
" I'll pay your bread and wine ; 

Seas ebb and flow as they wont to do, 
Yet I'm the laird o' Linne." 

An' he gaed up the Gallowgate port. 

His hose aboon his shoon ; 
But lang ere he cam down again 

Was convoyed by lords fifteen. 



THE WANDERING JEW. 

In the year 1228, we are informed by Matthew 
Paris, an Armenian archbishop visited England, with 
letters from the Pope, to make the tour of the holy 
places. During a sojourn at the monastery of St. 
Albans, he was asked by one of the brethren if he 
knew anything of the famous Joseph, so much spoken 
of, who had been present at the crucifixion, and was 
still Uvins as a witness to the truth of the Christian 



THE TTANDERING JEAV. 77 

faith. The archbishop responded that the fact was 
indeed as reported, and one of his retinue added, that 
his master had personally known this extraordinary 
character, and had admitted him to his table only a 
short time before setting out for the West; that he 
had been porter to Pontius Pilate, and was named 
Cartaphilus ; that when the Jews were dragging Christ 
from the judgment-hall, he had struck him in the 
back with his fist, saying, ^' Go faster, Jesus : why dost 
thou tarry?" — whereupon Christ turned to him and 
said, " I go, but thou shalt tarry till my coming." 
After the death of Jesus, Cartaphilus had been con- 
verted, and baptized by Ananias, under the name of 
Joseph. Still the sentence pronounced upon him by 
the Saviour was not revoked, and he remained in the 
world, awaiting the Lord's second advent, living in 
Armenia, or some other country of the East. When- 
ever he reached the age of a hundred, he fell into a 
trance, and when he revived, found himself again 
about thirty years old, as he had been at the epoch of 
Christ's suflTering. 

This story Matthew Paris heard at St. Albans, of 
which monastery he was himself a brother, a few 
years after the memorable visit of the Armenian pre- 
late. His contemporary, Philippe Mouskes, Bishop of 
Tournay, has incorporated the substance of his narra- 
tive into his rhymed chronicle, edited by the Baron 
de Keiffenberg, v. 25524, et seq. We hear noth- 
ing more of the W^andei^ing Jcav from this time until 
the middle of the 16th century, when he presents 
himself at Hamburgh, (in 1547,) calling himself Ahas- 
uerus, who had been a shoemaker at Jerusalem. The 
ballad which follows is founded upon some narrative 



78 THE WANDERING JEW. 

of this event, many of which were published. It will 
be noticed that in the second form of the legend, the 
punishment of perpetual existence, which gives rise 
to the old wames, Judceus non mortalis, Ewiger Jude, 
is aggravated by a condemnation to incessant change 
of place, which is indicated by a corresponding name, 
Wandering Jew, Juif Errant, etc. 

It is unnecessary, and would be impossible, to 
specify the various times and places at which the 
Wandering Jew has successively reappeared. The 
legend being firmly believed by the vulgar through- 
out Christendom, an opportunity for imposture was 
afforded which could not fail to be improved. The 
last recorded apparition was at Brussels, in April, 
1774, and on this occasion the wanderer had again 
changed his name to Isaac Laquedem. Of the origin 
of the tradition we know nothing. J\I. Lacroix has 
suggested that it took its rise in a grand and beautiful 
allegory in which the Hebrew race were personified 
under the figure of the Everlasting Wanderer. See 
Calraet's Bible Dictionary, Grasse, Die Sage vom Ewigen 
Juden, Dresden and Leipsic, 1844, Paul LacroixV 
Bibliograpliical Preface to Dore's Designs, La Le- 
gende du Juif Errant, etc. Paris, 1856. 

This ballad is taken from Percy's Reliques, ii. 317, 
and was from a black-letter copy in the Pepys colleo 
Uon. 

When as in faire Jerusalem 

Our Saviour Christ did live, 
And for the sins of all the worlde 

His own deare life did give, 
The wicked Jewes with scoffes and scornes 



THE WANDERING JEW. 79 

Did dailye him molest, 
That never till he left his hfe, 
Our Saviour could not rest. 

When they had crown'd his head with thornes, 

And scourg'd him to disgrace, 
In scornfull sort they led him forthe 

Unto his dying place, 
Where thousand thousands in the streete ^ 

Beheld him passe along, 
Yet not one gentle heart was there, 

That pityed this his wrong. 

Both old and young reviled him, 

As in the streete he wente, 
And nought he found but churhsh tauntes. 

By every ones consente : 
His owne deare cross he bore himselfe, 

A burthen far too great, 
Which made him in the streete to fainte, 

With blood and water sweat. 

Being weary thus, he sought for rest, 

To ease his burthened soule. 
Upon a stone ; the which a wretch 

Did churlishly controule ; 
And sayd, '' Awaye, thou King of Jewes, 

Thou shalt not rest thee here ; 
Pass on ; thy execution place 

Thou seest nowe draweth neare." 



80 THE WANDERING JEW. 

Aiid thereupon he thrust him thence ; 

At which our Saviour sayd, 
" I sure will rest, but thou shalt walke, 

And have no journey stayed." 
With that this cursed shoemaker, 

For offering Christ this wrong, 
Left wife and children, house and all,- 

And went from thence along. 

Where after he had scene the bloude 

Of Jesus Christ thus shed. 
And to the crosse his bodye nail'd, 

Awaye with speed he fled, 
Without returning backe againe 

Unto his dwelling place. 
And wandred up and downe the worlde, 

A runnagate most base. 

No resting could he finde at all, 

No ease, nor hearts content ; 
No house, nor home, nor biding place ; 

But wandring forth he went 
From towne to towne in foreigne landes, 

With grieved conscience still. 
Repenting for the heinous guilt 

Of his fore-passed ill. 

Thus after some fewe ages past 

In wandring up and downe, 
He much again desired to see 



THE WANDERING JEW. 81 

Jeruialems renowne. 
But finding it all quite destroyd, 

He wandred thence with woe, 
Our Saviours wordes, which he had spoke, 

To verifie and showe. 

'^ I'll rest," sayd hee, " but thou shalt walke ; " 

So doth this wandring Jew, 
From place to place, but cannot rest 

For seeing countries newe ; 
Declaring still the power of him, 

Whereas he comes or goes ; 
And of all things done in the east. 

Since Christ his death, he showes. 

The world he hath still compast round 

And seene those nations strange, 
That hearing of the name of Christ, 

Their idol gods doe change : 
To whom he hath told wondrous thinges 

Of time forepast and gone. 
And to the princes of the worlde 

Declares his cause of moane: 

Desiring still to be dissolv'd. 

And yeild his mortal breath ; 
But, if the Lord hath thus decreed, 

He shall not yet see death. 
For neither lookes he old nor young, 

But as he did those times, 

VOL. YIII. 6 



82 THE WANDERING JEW. 

When Christ did suffer on the crosse 
For mortall sinners crimes. 

He hath past through many a foreigne place, 

Arabia, Egypt, Africa, 
Grecia, Syi'ia, and great Thrace, 

And throujrhout all Hunojaria: 
Where Paul and Peter preached Christ, 

Those blest apostles deare, 
There he hath told our Saviours wordes. 

In countries far and neare. 

And lately in Bohemia, 

With many a German towne, 
And now in Flanders, as 'tis thought, 

He wandreth up and downe : 
Where learned men with him conferre 

Of those his lingering dayes, 
And wonder much to heare him tell 

His journeyes and his wayes." 

If people give this Jew an almes, 
■ The most that he will take 
Is not above a groat a time : 

Which he, for Jesus' sake. 
Will kindlye give unto the poore, 

And thereof make no spare, 
Affirming still that Jesus Christ 

Of him hath dailye care. 



PROUD LADY MARGARET. 

He ne'er was seene to laugh nor smile^ 

But weepe and make great moane ; 
Lamenting still his miseries, 

And dayes forepast and gone. 
If he heare any one blaspheme, 

Or take God's name iu vaine, 
He telles them that they crucifie 

Their Saviour Christe againe. 

'' If you had seene his death," saith he, 

" As these mine eyes have done. 
Ten thousand thousand times would yec 

His torments think upon, 
And suffer for his sake all paine 

Of torments, and all w^oes : " 
These are his wordes, and eke his life. 

Whereas he comes or goes. 



PROUD LADY MARGARET. 

From Minstrelsy of the ScotlsJi Border^ iii. 31". 
This copy of the ballad is imperfect. A complete 
version is inserted in the Appendix from Bucban's 
Ballads of the North of Scotland, i. 91. There is 
another, also defective, called The Bonny Hind Squire, 
m Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads^ 
p. 42, Percy Soc. voh xvii. 



84 PROUD LADY MARGARET. 

'Tavas on a night, an evening bright, 

When the dew began to fa', 
Lady Margaret was walking up and down, 

Looking o'er her castle wa'. 

bhe looked east, and she looked west, 

To see what she could spy, 
When a gallant knight came in her sight, 

And to the gate drew nigh. 

" You seem to be no gentleman. 
You wear your boots so wide ; 

But you seem to be some cunning hunter, 
You wear the horn so syde." 

" I am no cunning hunter," he said, 

"Nor ne'er intend to be ; 
But I am come to this castle 

To seek the love of thee ; 
And if you do not grant me love, 

This night for thee I'll die." 

" If you should die for me, sir knight, 
There's few for you will mane. 

For mony a better has died for me 
Whose graves are growing green. 

" But ye maun read my riddle," she said, 
" And answer me questions three ; 

And but ye read them right," she said, 
*' Gae stretch ye out and die. 



PROUD LADY MARGARET. 85 

" ;Now what is the flower, the ae first flower, 

Springs either on moor or dale ? 
And what is the bird, the bonnie bonnie bird, 

Sinofs on the evening^ o;ale ? " 

" The primrose is the ae first flower 

Springs either on moor or dale ; 
And the thristlecock is the bonniest bird 

Sings on the evening gale." 

" But what's the little coin," she said, 

" Wald buy my castle bound ? 
And what's the little boat," she said, 

" Can sail the world all round ? " 

" hey, how mony small pennies 
Make thrice three thousand pound ? 

Or hey, how mony small fishes 
Swim a' the salt sea round ? " 

" I think ye maun be my match," she said, 

" My match and something mair ; 
You are the first e'er got the grant 

Of love frae my father's heir. 

* My father was lord of nine castles, 

My mother lady of three ; 
My father was lord of nine castles. 

And there's nane to heir but me. 



86 PROUD LADY MARGARET. 

" And round about a' thae castles, 

You may baith plow and saw, 
And on the fifteenth day of May 

The meadows they will maw." 

" O hald your tongue, Lady Margaret," he said 

" For loud I hear you lie ! 
Your father was lord of nine castles. 

Your mother was lady of three ; 
Your father was lord of nine castles, 

But ye fa' heir to but three. 

" And round about a' thae castles. 

You may baith plow and saw. 
But on the fifteenth day of May 

The meadows will not maw. 

" I am your brother Willie," he said, 

" I trow ye ken na me ; 
I came to humble your haughty heart, 

Has gar'd sae mony die." 

" If ye be my brother Willie," she said ; 

" As I trow weel ye be, 
This night I'll neither eat nor drink. 

But gae alang wi' thee." 

" hald your tongue, Lady Margaret," he said, 
" Again I h ?,ar you lie ; 



EEEDISDALE AND AVISE WILLIAM. 87 

For yeVe unwashen hands, and ye've unwashen 
feet,i 
To gae to clay wi' me. 

" For the wee worms are my bedfellows, 

And cauld clay is my sheets, 
And when the stormy winds do blow, 

My body lies and sleeps." 



REEDISDALE AND WISE WILLIAM. 

Motherwell's Minstrehy^ p. 298, and Buchan's 
Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii. 70 : from recita- 
tion. 

When Reedisdale and Wise William 

Was drinking at the wine, 
There fell a roosing them amang, 

On one unruly time. 

For some of them has roosed their hawks, 

And other some their hounds ; 
And other some their ladies fair. 

And their bow'rs whare they walked in. 

When out it spak him Reedisdale, 
And a rash word spake he : 

1 Unwashen hands and unwashen feet. — Alluding to the 
cnstom of washing and dressing dead bodies. S. 



88 REEDISDALE AND WISE WILLIAM. 

Says, " There is not a lady fair, 

In bower wherever she be, 
But I could aye her favour win, 

With one blink of my e'e." 

Then out it spak him Wise William, 

And a rash word spak he : 
Says, " I have a sister of my own, 

In bower wherever she be. 
And ye will not her favour win, 

With three bhnks of your e'e." 

" What will you wager. Wise William ? 

My lands I'll wad with thee : " 
" I'll wad my head against your land, 

Till I get more monie." 

Then Reedisdale took Wise William, 

Laid him in prison Strang ; 
That he might neither gang nor ride, 

Nor no word to her send. 

But he has written a braid letter, 

Between the night and day, 
And sent it to his own sister, 

By dun feather and gray. 

When she had read Wise William's letter, 

She smiled and she leuch : 
Said, " Very weel, my dear brother, 

Of this I have eneuch." 



REEDISDALE AND WISE AYILL1A.M. 89 

She looked out at her west window, 

To see what she could see, 
And there she spied him Reedisdale, 

Come riding o'er the lea. 

Says, " Come to me, my maidens all. 

Come hitherward to me ; 
For here it comes him Reedisdale, 

Who comes a-courting me." 

*' Come down, come down, my lady fair, 

A sight of you give me : " 
" Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 

For me you will not see." 

" Come down, come down, my lady fair, 

A sight of you give me ; 
And bonnie is the gowns of silk 

That I will give to thee." 

" If you have bonnie gowns of silk, 

mine is bonnie tee ; 

Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 
For me you shall not see." 

" Come down, come down, my lady fair, 

A sight of you I'll see ; 
And bonnie jewels, broaches, nngs, 

1 will give unto thee." 



90 REEDISDALE AND WISE WILLIAM. 

" If you have bonnie broaches, rings, 

mine are bonnie tee ; 
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 

For me you shall not see." 

" Come down, come down, my lady fair, 

One sight of you I'll see ; 
And bonnie is the halls and bowers 

That I will give to thee." 

" If you have bonnie halls and bowers, 

O mine is bonnie tee ; 
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 

For me you shall not see." 

" Come down, come down, my lady fair, 

A sight of you I'll see ; 
And bonnie is my lands so broad 

That I will give to thee." 

" If you have bonnie lands so broad, 

O mine is bonnie tee ; 
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 

For me you will not see." 

" Come down, come down, my lady fair 

A sight of you I'll see ; 
And bonnie is the bags of gold 

That I will give to thee." 



REEDISDALE AND WISE WILLIAM. 91 

" If you have boiinie bags of gold, 

I have bags of the same ; 
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 

For down I will not come." 

" Come down, come down, my lady fair, 

One sight of you I'll see ; 
Or else I'll set your house on fire, 

If better cannot be." 

Then he has set the house on fire, 

And all the rest it took ; 
He turned his wight horse head about," 

Said, " Alas ! they'll ne'er get out." 

" Look out, look out, my maidens fair, 

And see what I do see ; 
How Reedisdale has fired our house, 

And now rides o'er the lea. 

" Come hitherward, my maidens fair, 

Come hither unto me ; 
For through this reek, and through this smeek, 

O through it we must be." 

They took wet mantles them about, 

Their coffers by the band ; 
And through the reek, and through the flame. 

Alive they all have wan. 



92 GEORDIE. 

When they had got out through the fire, 

And able all to stand, 
She sent a maid to Wise William, 

To bruik Reedisdale's land. 

" Your lands is mine, now, Reedisdale, 
For I have won them free : " 

" If there is a good woman in the world, 
Your one sister is she." 



GEORDIE. 

From the Musical Museum^ p. 357. 

" Geordie, an old Ballad," was first printed in 
Johnson's Museum, from a copy furnished by Burns. 
The occasion of the ballad has not been satisfactorily 
determined. In the opinion of Mr. Kinloch, it is to 
be found in the factions of the family of Huntly 
dunng the reign of Queen Mary. George Gordon, 
Earl of Huntly, having been sent by the Queen to 
apprehend a notorious robber, was thought not to 
have been faithful to his trust. He returned without 
accomplishing the object of his expedition, and was 
oommitted to prison because of his failure. Some of 
the Queen's council were in favor of banishing him 
to France, others of putting him to death, but he was 
released, on condition of paying a fine and performing 
certain other stipulations. Motherwell states that 
there is much variation in the recited copies of this 



GEORDIE. 93 

piece, and mentions one styled Geordie LuUie. Kin- 
loch prints a version not materially different from that 
of the Museum. Allan Cunningham has reprinted 
the Museum copy with less change than is customary 
with him ; Songs of Scotland, ii. 186. We give in the 
Appendix a ballad from Buchan, called Gighfs Lady, 
which contains a story widely diverse from that which 
follows. In Ritson's Northumberland Garland, p. 43, 
there is a " lamentable ditty " on the death of one 
George Stoole, which appears to be an imitation of 
the Scottish ballad. 



There was a battle in the north, 
And nobles there was many, 

And they hae kill'd Sir Charlie Hay, 
And they laid the wyte on Geordie. 

O he has written a lang letter, 

He sent it to his lady ; 
" Ye maun cum up to Enbrugh town, 

To see what word's o' Geordie." 

When first she look'd the letter on 
She was baith red and rosy, 

But she had na read a word but twa, 
Till she wallow't like a lily. 

" Gar get to me my gude grey steed, 

My menzie a' gae wi' me, 
For I shall neither eat nor drink. 

Till Enbrugh town shall see me." 



94 GEORDIE. 

And she has mountit her gude grey steed 

Her menzie a' gaed wi' her ; 
And she did neither eat nor drink, 

Till Enbrugh town did see her.^ 

And first appear'd the fatal block, 

And syne the aix to head him, 
And Geordie cumin down the stair. 

And bands o' airn upon him. 

But tho* he was chain'd in fetters Strang, 

0' airn and steel sae heavy. 
There was na ane in a' the court, 

Sae bra' a man as Geordie. 

O she's down on her bended knee, 

I wat she's pale and weary, — 
" pardon, pardon, noble king. 

And gie me back my dearie. 

" I hae born seven sons to my Geordie dear, 

The seventh ne'er saw his daddie ; 
O pardon, pardon, noble king. 

Pity a waefu' lady ! " 

1 Cunningham here inserts a stanza " from the recitation 
of Mrs. Cunningham," which is not in the other printed 



copies : 



And soon she came to the water broad, 
Xor boat nor barge was ready ; 

She turned her horse's head to the flood, 
And swam through at Queeusferry. 



GEORDIE. 96 

^ Gar bid the headin-man mak haste," 

Our kmg replj'd fu' lordly ; — 
" O noble king, tak a' that's mine, 

But gie me back my Geordie." 

The Gordons cam, and the Gordons ran,. 

And they were stark and steady ; 
And ay the word amang them a', 

Was, " Gordons, keep you ready." 

An aged lord at the king's right hand. 

Says, " Noble king, but hear me ; 
Gar her tell down five thousand pound. 

And gie her back her dearie." 

Some gae her marks, some gae her crowns, 

Some gae her dollars many ; 
And she's tell'd down five thousand pound. 

And she's gotten again her dearie. 

She blinkit blythe in her Geordie's face, 
Says, " Dear I've bought thee, Geordie ; 

But there sud been bluidy bouks on the green, 
Or I had tint my laddie." 

He claspit her by the middle sma', 

And he kist her lips sae rosy ; 
" The fairest flower o' woman-kind, 

Is my sweet, bonnie lady!" 



96 GEORDIE. 



GEORDIE. 

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads^ p. 192. 

There was a battle in the North, 
And rebels there were monie ; 

And monie ane got broken heads, 
And taken was my Geordie. 

My Geordie 0, my Geordie 0, 
the love 1 hear to Geordie ; 

For the very grund I walk upon. 
Bears witness I he Geordie. 

As she gaed up the tolbooth stair, 
The cripples there stood monie ; 

And she dealt the red gowd them among, 
To pray for her love Geordie. 

And whan she cam into the hall, 
The nobles there stood monie ; 

And ilka ane stood hat on head, 
But hat in hand stood Geordie. 

Up bespak a Norlan lord, 
I wat he spak na bonnie, — 



GEORDIE. 97 

" If ye'll stay here a little while, 
Ye'll see Geordie hangit shortly." 

Then up bespak a baron bold, 

And but he spak bonnie, 

" If ye'll pay doun five hundred crowns, 

Ye'se get your true-love Geordie." 

Some lent her guineas, some lent her crowns. 

Some lent her shillings monie ; 
And she's paid doun five hundred crowns, 

And she's gotten her bonnie love Geordie. 

When she was mounted on her hie steed, 

And on ahint her Geordie, 
Nae bird on the brier e'er sang sae clear, 

As the young knight and his ladie. 

" My Geordie 0, my Geordie 0, 
the love 1 hear to Geordie ; 
The very stars in the firmament 
Bear tokens I he Geordie'* 



VOL. viu. 



98 THE GABERLUNZIE-MAN. 

THE GABERLUNZIE-MAN. 

Tea-Table Miscellany, i. 104; Old Ballads, iii. 259. 

It is tradition that King James the Fifth of Scot- 
land was in the habit of wandering about his domin- 
ons in disguise, and engaging in amours with country 
girls. One of these is thought to be described in the 
witty ballad of The Jolly Beggar, (Herd's Scotish 
Songs, ii. 164, Ritson's Scotish Songs, i. 168,) and 
another in The Gaherlunzie-Man, both of which are 
universally attributed (though without evidence) to 
rJames's pen. The character of James Y., it has been 
remarked {Gent. Mag. Oct. 1794, p. 913,) resembled 
both in licentiousness and genius, that of the trouba- 
dour sovereign, William the Ninth, Count of Poitiers, 
who appears to have had the same vagrant habits. 

With The Jolly Beggar may be compared Der Bet- 
telmann, in Hoffmann's Schlesische Volkslieder, p. 45. 

The pawky auld carle came o'er the lee, ' 
Wi' many goode'ens and days to me, 
Saying, " Goodwil'e, for your courtesie, 

" Will you lodge a pillj poor man ? " 
The night was cauld, the carle was wat, 
And down ayont the ingle he sat ; 
My daughters shoulders he gan to clap, 

And cadgily ranted and sang. 

" O wow ! " quo' he, " were I as free, 
As first when I saw this country, 



THE GABERLUNZIE-MAN. 99 

How bljth ai-d merry wad I be, 

And I wad never think lang." 
He grew canty, and she grew fain, 
But h'ttle did her auld minny ken, 
What thir slee twa togither were say*ng, 

When wooing they were sae thrang. 

" And O ! " quo' he, " ann ye were as black. 
As e'er the crown of my dady's hat, 
'Tis I wad lay thee by my back. 

And awa' wi' me thou shou'd gang." 
" And O ! " quo' she, " ann I were as white, 
As e'er the snaw lay on the dyke, 
I'd dead me braw, and lady-like, 

And awa with thee I'd gang." 

Between the twa was made a plot ; 
They raise a wee before the cock, 
And wilily they shot the lock. 

And fast to the bent are they gane. 
Up the morn the auld wife raise, 
And at her leisure pat on her claise ; 
Syne to the servant's bed she gaes. 

To speer for the silly poor man. 

She gaed to the bed where the beggar lay, 
The strae was cauld, he was away ; 
She clapt her hands, cry'd " Waladay ! 
For some of our gear will be gane." 
Some ran to coffers, and some to kists, 



100 THE GABERLUNZIE-MAN. 

But nought was stown that cou'd be mist : 
She danc'd her lane, cry'd, " Praise be blest ! 
I have lodg'd a leal poor man. 

" Since nathing's awa', as we can learn, 

The kirn's to kirn, and milk to earn ; 

Gae butt the house, lass, and waken my bairn, 

And bid her come quickly ben." 
The servant gade where the daughter lay. 
The sheets was cauld, she was away ; 
And fast to her goodwife can say, 
" She's aff with the gaberlunzie-man.'* 

'* fy gar ride, and fy gar rin, 

And haste ye, find these traytors again ; 

For she's be burnt, and he's be slain. 

The wearifu' gaberlunzie-man." 
Some rade upo' horse, some ran a-fit, 
The wife was w^ood, and out o' her wit ; 
She cou'd na gang, nor yet cou'd she sit, 

But ay she curs'd and she ban'd. 

Mean time far hind out o'er the lee, 

Fu' snug in a glen, where nane cou'd see. 

The twa, with kindly sport and glee. 

Cut frae a new cheese a whang. 
The priving was good, it pleas'd them baith ; 
To lo'e her for aye he gae her his aith ; 
Quo' she, " To leave thee, I will be laith, 

My winsome gaberlunzie-man. 



THE GABERLUNZIE-MAN. 101 

"" kend mj minny I were wi' you, 
Illfardly wad she crook her mou ; 
Sic a poor man she'd never trow, 

After the gaberlunzie-man." 
*' My dear," quo' he, " ye're yet o'er young. 
And ha' na lear'd the beggars tongue, 
To follow me frae town to town, 

And carry the gaberlunzie on. 

" Wi' cauk and keel, I'll win your bread, 
And spindles and whorles for them wha need, 
Whilk is a gentil trade indeed. 

To carry the gaberlunzie, O. 
I'll bow my leg, and crook my knee. 
And draw a black clout o'er my eye ; 
A cripple or blind they will ca' me, 

While we shall be merry and sing." 



THE TURNAJMENT OF TOTENHAM. 

2^he Turnament of Totenham was first printed ir 
the History of Totenham, (1631,) by the Rev. Wil 
helm Bedwell, rector of the parish, who, says Percy. 
" so little entered into the spirit of the poem he wa 
pubHshing, that he contends for its being a serioi:.i 
narrative of a real event, and thinks it must have 
been written before the time of Edward III., because 
turnaments were prohibited in that reign." The sim- 
ple parson derived his copy from a manuscript lent 



102 THE TURNAMENT OF TOTENHAM. 

him by George Withers. In the first edition of the 
ReUques, Percy reprinted Bedwell's text, with some 
conjectural emendations, but for the revised edition 
he employed a manuscript in the Harleian collection 
(No. 5396), pointed out to him by Tyrwhitt. This 
manuscript is thought to have been written in the 
reign of Henry VI. Since the publication of the 
Harleian text, the manuscript used by Bedwell has 
been found in the Public Library of the University 
of Cambridge, (Ff 5, 48,) and a correct copy pub- 
lished by Mr. AVright in a miniature volume. We 
have given this last text, as on the whole the best, 
though in places it requires emendation from the 
Harleian copy. The Cambridge manuscript (the 
same as that which contains the ballad of Robin Hood 
and the Monk,) Mr. Wright believes to have been 
written as early as the reign of Edward II. In this 
MS. there is subjoined to the Turnament an extravar 
gantly burlesque account of the feast mentioned in 
the last stanzas. 

Percy's copy will be found in the Rdiques, ii. 13. 
Ritson's (Ancient English Songs, i. 85,) is nearly identi- 
cal. 

This ballad, it has been observed, appears to be " a 
burlesque upon the old feudal custom of marrying an 
heiress to the knight who should vanquish all his 
opponents, at a solemn assembly holden for that pur- 
pose." See the remarks In the Gentleman's Magazine 
for July, 1794, p. 613. 

Of alle these kene conqueroures to carpe is cure 

kynde ; 
Off fel feghtyng folke ferly we fynde ; 



THE TURNAMENT OF TOTENHAM. 103 

The tumament of Totenham have I in ncynde ; 
Hit were harrae sich hardynesse were holdyn 
behynde, 
In story as we rede 
Off Hawkyn, of Harry, 
Off Tymkyn, of Tyrry, 
Off thaym that were duzty 
And hardy in dede. 

Hit befel in Totenham on a dere day, 
Ther was made a shurtyng be the hye way ; 
Thider come alle the men of that contray, 
Off Hisselton, of Hygate, and of Hakenay, 
And alle the swete swynkers : 
Ther hoppyd Hawkyn, 
Ther dawnsid Dawkyn, 
Ther trumpyd Tymkyn, 

And [all] were true drynkers. 

Tille the day was gon and evesong paste. 

That thai shulde reckyn thaire skot and thaire 

counts caste : 
Perkyn the potter in to the prees paste, 
And seid, " Rondill the refe, a dozter thu haste, 
Tibbe thi dere. 
Therfor fayne wete wolde I, 

18. sic ]\IS. Harl. according to Percy. 
24-27. MS. Harl. 

Thei'for faine "wyt wold I, 

Whych of all thys bachelery 



104 THE TURNAMENT OF TOTENHAM. 

Whether these felows or T, 

Or which of alle this bachelerj, 

Were the best worthy to wed hir tc his fere.'*' 

Upsterte the gadlyngs with thaire lang staves, 
And seid, " Rondyll the refe, lo, this lad raves ; 
How prudly among us thy dozter he craves ; 
And we ar richer men then he, and more gode 
haves. 
Off catell and of corne." 
Then seid Perkyn, " To Tibbe I have hyzt. 
That I will be alle wey redy in my rizt. 
With a fleyle for to fyght, this day seven nyzt, 
And thouz hit were to morne." 

Then seid Rondill the refe, " Ever be he waryd 
That aboute this carpyng lenger wolde be taryd : 
I wolde not my dozter that she were myskaryd. 
But at hir moost worship I wolde she were 
maryd. 
[Ther]ffor the turnament shalle begynne 
This day seven nyzt. 

Were best worthye 

To wed hur to liys fere. 
V. 27 should be divided into two. 
35-36. MS. Harl. 

If that it schuld be thys day sevenyzt, 

Or elles zet to morn. 

36, Wright, tomorowe. 
41. sic MS. Harl. 



THE TURNAMENT OF TOTENHAM. 105 

With a flayle for to fyzt : 
And he that is moste of myzt 
Shalle brok hir with wynne. 

" He that berys hym best in the turnament, 
Him shal be grauntid the gre be the comyn as- 
sent, 
Ffor to Wynne my dozter with duztynesse of dent, 
And Coppull, my brode hen, that was brozt out 
of Kent, 
And my donned cow. 
Ffor no s})ence will I spare, 
Ffor no catell wille I care ; 
He shalle have my gray mare, 
And ray spottyd sowe." 

Ther was mony a bolde lad theire bodys to bede : 
Than thei toke theire leve and hamwarde thei 

zede, 
And alle the weke afterward thei graythed her 

wede, 
Tille hit come to the day that thei shulde do thaire 
dede. 
Thei armyd theym in mattes, 
Thei sett on theire nolles 
Gode blake holies, 
Ffor to kepe theire poUis 
Ffor batteryng of battes. 

47. Wright, He- 



106 THE TURNAMENT OF TOTENHAM. 

Thei sewed hem in schepe skynnes, for thei sbuld 

not brest, 
And everilkon of hem a blac hatte in stidde of a 

crest, 
A baskett or a panyer before on thaire brest, 
And a flayle in theire honde ; for to fyzt prest, 
Forth con thei fare. 
Ther was kid mycull fors. 
Who shulde best fend his cors ; 
He that hade no gode hors, 
Borowyd hyra a mare. 

Sich another clothyng have I not sene ofte, 
When alle the gret cumpany come ridand to the 

crofte ; 
Tibbe on a gray mare was sett up on lofte ; 
Upon a secke full of senvye, for she shuld sitt 
softe. 
And ledde tille the gappe : 
Fforther wold she not than, * 
For the luf of no man, 
Tille Coppull, hir brode hen, 
, Were brozt in to hir lappe. 

65. MS. Harl. Ilk on toke a blak hat. 

72. MS. Harl. He gat hym a mare. 

73. MS. Harl. gadryng. 
78-81. MS. Harl. 

For cryeng of the men, 
Forther wold not Tyb then, 
Tyl scho had hur brode hen, 
Set in hur lap. 



THE TURNAMENT OF TOTEXHAM. 107 

A gay gjrdull Tibbe hade [on], borowed for the 

none^ 
And a garland on hir hed, full of ruell bones, 
And a broch on hir brest, full of saphre stones, 
The holy rode tokynyng was writon for the 
nones : 
For no spendyng they [had] spare[d]. 
When joly Jeynken wist hir thare, 
He gurde so fast his gray mare, 
That she lete a fowkyn fare 
At the rerewarde. 

'^ I make a vow," quod Tibbe, " CoppuU is corayn 

of kynde ; 
I shalle falle fyve in the felde, and I my flayle 

fynde." 
" I make a vow," quod Hudde, " I shalle not leve 

behynde ; 
May I mete with Lyarde, or Bayarde the biynde, 

82. on. MS. Harl. 

85. ]\IS. Harl. With the holy, &c. -vvrotyn. 

86. Wolde they spare. Wright. 

V. 91-99. Stands thus in MS. Harl. 
"I wow to God," quoth Heny, "I schal not lefe behyndo, 
May 1 mete wyth Bernard on Bayard the blynde. 
Ich man kepe hym out of my wynde, 
For whatsoever that he be before me I fynde, 
I wot I schall hym gi-eve." 

" Wele sayd," quoth Hawkyn, 

" And I wow," quoth Dawkyn, 

" May I mete wyth Tomkyn, 
Hys flayle I schal hjTH revo." 



108 THE TURNAMENT OF TOTENHAM. 

I wot I schalle theym greve." 
" I make a vow," quod Haukyn, 
" May I mete with Daukyn, 
Ffor alle his rich kyn, 

His flayle I shalle hym reve." 

^* I make a vow," quod Gregge, " Tib, [son] thu 

shal se 
Which of alle the bachelery grauntid is the 

gre. 
I shalle skomfet hem alle, for the luf of the, 
In what place that I come, thei shall have dout of 
me. 
Ffor I am armyd at the fole ; 
In myn armys I ber well 
A doz troz and a pele, 
A sadull withowt panele. 
With a flece of wole." 

" Now go down," quod Dudman, " and here me 

bet abowte : 
I make a vow thei shall abye that I fynde owte. 

■104r-108. Here stand vs. 113-117 in MS. Harl. 

109-117. This stanza is written as follows in MS. Harl. : 
" I vow to God," quoth Hawkyn, " Yf he have the gowt, 
Al that I f\Tide in the felde thrustand here aboute, 
Have I twyes or thryes redyn thnigh the route, 
In ych a stede ther thay me se, of me thay schal have doute 
When I begyn to play, 

I make a vowe that I ne schall, 

But yf Tybbe wyl me caU, 

Or I be thry^es don fall, 
Kyzt onys com away. 



THE TURNAMENT OF TOTENUAM. 109 

Have I twyse or thrise riden thruz the rowte, 
In what place that I come, of me thei shall ha[ve] 
doute. 
Myn armys bene so clere : 
I bar a ridell and a rake, 
Poudurt with the brenyng drake, 
And thre cantels of a cake 
In ilke a cornere." 

" I make a vow," quod Tirry, " and swere be my 

crede, 
Saw thu never yong boy farther his body bede : 
Ffor when thei fyzt fastest, and most er in drede, 
I shalle take Tib be the bond and away hir 
lede. 
Then byn myn armys best : 
I ber a pilch of ermyn, 
Poudert with a catt skyn ; 
The chefe is of pechmyn, 
That stondis on the creste." 

" I make a vow," quod Dudman, " and swere be 

the stra, 
Whils me ys left my mer, thu gets hir not swa. 

122-126. Here stand v. 104-108 in MS. Harl. 

128. Whyls me ys left my merth. MS. Harl. 

Whil I am most mery. Wright. 

We must obviously read " mer," i. e. mare, with Percy 
and Eitson; otherwise the rest of the stanza is nonsense. 
The th which is added in the MS. Harl., was caught from the 
ihou following. 



110 THE TURNAMENT OF TOTENHAM. 

For she is wel shapyn, as lizt as a ra ; 
Ther is no capull in this myle before her will ga. 
She wil me not begyle ; 
I dar sothelj say, 
She will be[re me] on Monday 
Ffro Hissiltoun to Haknay, 
Nozt other halfe myle." 

" I make a vow," quod Perkyn, " thu carpis of 

cold rost. 
I wil wyrke wiselier without any boost. 
Ffyve of the best capuls that ar in this host, 
I will hem lede away be another coost : " 
And then lowz Tibbe. 
" Weloo, boyes, here is he 
That will fy zt and not fle : 
Ffor I am in my jolyte : 
I go forth, Tibbe." 

When thai had thaire othes made, forth can thei 

hie. 
With flayles and harnys and trumpis made of 

tre. 

132-3. LIS. Harl. Sche wyl me bere, I dar say, 
On a lang-somerys day. 

141. MS. H. wele. 

144. MS. H. Wyth so forth, Gybbe. 
Wright. Joo forth. 

145. hie, MS. Harl. 
te, Wright. 



THE TURNAMENT OF TOTENHAM. Ill 

Ther were all the bacliilers of that contre : 
Thei were dizt in aray, as thaim self wolde be. 
Theire baner was ful bryzt, 
Off an olde raton fell ; 
The chefe was of a ploo-mell, 
And the schadow of a bell, 
Quarterd with the mone lizt. 

I wot it was no childer gamme when thei to 

geder mett, 
When ilke a freke in the felde on his felow bette, 
And leid on stiflj — for no thyng wold thei lett — 
And fozt ferly fast, til theyre hors swett. 
And few wordis were spokyn. 
Ther were flayles al to-flaterde, 
Ther were scheldis al to-claterde, 
Bolles and disshis al to-baterde, 

And mony hedis ther were brokyn. 

Ther was clenkyng of cart sadils, and clatering 

of Cannes ; 
Off fel frekis in the feeld brokyn were thaire 

fannes ; 
C^ff sura were the hedis brokyn, of sum the brayn 

pannes, 



150-151. MS. H. Of an old rotten feU, 
The cheveron of a plow-mell. 

153. MS. H. Poudred. 

159-161. MS. H.' slatred— flatred— schatred. 



112 THE TURNAMENT OF TOTENHAM. 

And evel were they besene er they went thannes, 

With swippyng of swipylles. 
The laddis were so wery forfozt, 
That thai myzt fyzt no more on loft, 
But creppid aboute in the crofte, 

As thei were crokid crypils. 

Perkyn was so wery that he began to lowte : 
" Helpe, Hudde, I am ded in this ilke rowte ; 
An hors, for forty penys, a gode and a stoute, 
That I may liztly cum of my [noye] owte. 
Ffor no cost wil I spare." 
He stert up as a snayle, 
And hent a capull be the tayle, 
And rauzt of Daukyn his flayle, 
And wan hym a mare. 

" Perkyn wan fyve, and Hudde wan twa. 
Glad and blith thai were that thei had don sa ; 
Thai wolde have thaim to Tibbe, and present hir 

with tha ; 
The capuls were so wery that thei myzt not 
ga, 
But stille can thei stonde. 
" Alas ! " quod Hud, " my joye I lese : 
Me had lever then a ston of chese 
That dere Tibbe had alle these, 
And wist hit were my sonde." 

175. my noye. MS. H. . 
myn one. Wright. 



THE TURNAMENT 01 TOTENHAM. 1 IS 

Perkyn turnjd liyin aboute in that ilke throng ; 
He fouzt fresshly, for he had rest hym long. 
He was war of Tiny take Tib be the bond, 
And wold have lad hir away with a luf-song ; 
And Perkyn after ran, 
And of his capull he hym drowe, 
And gaf hym of his flayle inowe. 
Then " Te he," quod Tib, and lowe : 
'• Ze ar a duzty man." 

Thus thai tiiggat and thei ruggat, til hit was ny 

nyzt. 
Alle the wyves of Totenham come to se that 

sizt, 
To fech home thaire husbondis that were thaym 

trouthe-plizt. 
With wispys and kexis, that was a rich lizt, 
Her husbondis home to fech. 

191-194. MS. Harl. 
Among those wery boyes he wrest and he "svrang, 
He threw tham doun to the erth, and thrast them amang, 
When he saw TyiTv away wyth Tyb fang, 

And after hym ran. 
201-207. Here evidently corrupted. In MS. Harl. as fol- 
lows: 
Wj-th wyspes, and kexis, and ryschys there lyzt. 
To fetch hom ther husbandes that were tham trouth-plyzt. 
And sum brozt gret harwos 
Ther husbandes hom to fetch, 
Sura on dores, and sum on hech, 
Sum on hjTdyllys, and sum on crech, 
And sum on whele-barows. 
VOL. VIII. 8 



114 THE TURNAMENT /OF TOTENHAM. 

And sum they had in armys, 
That were febuU wreches, 
And sum on whelebarowes, 
And sum on criches. 

Tlicy gedurt Perkyn aboute on every side, 

And graunt hym ther the gre, the more was his 

pride. 
Tib and he with gret myrth hamward can 

ride, 
And were al nyzt togedur til the morow tide. 
And to chirch thay went. 
So wel his nedis he hase spedde, 
That dere Tibbe he shall wedde ; 
The chefe men that hir thider ledde 
Were of the turnament. 

To that rich fest come mony for the nonys ; 
Sum come hiphalt, and sum trippande thither on 

the stonys ; 
Sum with a staffe in his honde, and sum too at 

onys ; 
Of sum were the hedis brokyn, of sum the 
schulder bonys. 
With sorow come they thidur. 
Woo was Hawkyn, wo was Harry, 
Woo was Tomkyn, woo was Tirry, 



212. MS. H. And thay ifere assent. 

215. MS. H. The prayse-folk that hui led. 



THE TURNAMENT OF TOTENHAM. 115 

And SO was al the company, 
But zet thei come togeder. 

At that fest were thei servyd in a rich aray : 
Every fyve and fyve had a cokeney. 
And so they sate in jolite td the long daye ; 
Tibbe at nyzt, I trow, hade a sympull aray. 
Micull myrth was thaym among : 
In every corner of the howse 
Was melodye deliciouse, 
Ffor to here preciouse, 
Off six mennys song. 

224-5. MS. H. 

And so was all the bachelary, 
When thay met togedyr. 
226. 3tIS. H. with a ryche aray. 
229. MS. H. 

And at the last thay went to bed with ful gret deray. 
N. B. The letter z in our reprint of this poem often repre- 
sents the old character ^, which has generally the force of gh 
(aspirated g), sometimes of y. 



116 THE WYF OF AUCHTIR3IUCHT Y. 



THE ^YYF OF AUCHTIRMUCHTY. 

This ballad has been handed down, through manu- 
script and oral tradition, in several forms. The oldest 
copy is furnished by the Bannatyne MS., and this has 
been often printed, with more or less correctness : as 
in Ramsay's Eoergreen^ ii. 137 ; Lord Hailes's Ancient 
Scotiah Poems, ^'c. p. 215 ; Herd's Scotish Songs, ii. 
237 ; Pinkerton's Select Scottish Balluds, ii. 97. Our 
text is that of Laing, Select Remains, ^"c, which pro- 
fesses to be carefully given from the manuscript. Mr. 
Laing has added in the margin the most important 
variations of other editions. Allan Ramsay altered 
several verses and added others. 

In the Bannatyne j\IS. this piece is subscribed with 
the name of "Mofat," and on this ground the author- 
ship has been attributed to Sir John Moffat, who is 
supposed to have lived in the earlier part of the 16th 
century. 

Ritson, who intended to insert the Wife of Auch- 
termuchty in a projected vo-'ume of Select Scolish 
Poems, says in a manuscript note, " The subject of 
this poem seems to be borrowed from the first part of 
a story in the Silva Sermonum Jiicundissimorum, Basil. 
1568, 8vo. p. 116, though certainly from a more an(^ent 
authority." (Laing.) This story is cited at the end 
of the volume from which we print. In Wright and 
HalliweU's Reliquice Antiguce, ii. 195, is the first jit 
of an English ballad on the same subject, "from a 
MS. on paper, of the reign of Henry VII," (Ballad 
of a Tyrannical Husband.) John Grumlie in Gun- 



THE WYF OF AUCHTIEMUCHTY. 117 

niiigham's Songs of Scotland^ ii. 123, is another variety. 
See also Nursery Rhymes of England, p. 32, Per. Soc. 
vol. iv. In 1803, there appeared at Eldinburgh a trans- 
lation of Ramsay's ballad into Latin rhyme. 

In Auchtirmuchty thair dwelt ane man, 

An husband, as I hard it tauld, 
Quha Weill could tippill owt a can, 

And naithir luvit hungir nor cauld. 
Quhill an is it fell upoun a day. 

He yokkit his plueh upoun the plane ; 
Gif it be trew as I hard say. 

The day was foull for wind and rane. 

He lowsit the pluche at the landis end, 

And draif his oxin hame at evin ; 
Quhen he come in he lukit bend. 

And saw the wyf baith dry and clene, 
And sittand at ane fyre, beik and bauld, 

With ane fat soup, as I hard say ; 
The man being verry weit and cauld, 

Betwene thay twa it was na play. 

Quoth he, " Quhair is mjf horsis come .'' 

My ox hes naithir hay nor stray ; 
Dame, ye mon to the pluch to morne ; 

I salbe hussy, gif I may.". 
" Husband," quoth scho, " content am I 

To tak the pluche my day about, 
Sa ye will reull baith kavis and ky, 

And all the house baith in and owt. 



118 THE WYF OF AUCHTIRMCCHTT. 

" But sen that ye will husjskep ken, 

First ye sail sift and syne sail kned ; 
And ay as ye gang but and ben, 

Luk that the bairnis dryt not the bed. 
Yeis lay ane soft wisp to the kill ; 

We haif ane deir ferme on o[u]r heid ; 
And ay as ye gang furth and in, 

Keip Weill the gaislingis fra the gled." 

The wyf was up richt late at evin, 

I pray God gif her evill to fair ! 
Scho kyrnd the kyrne, and skumd it clene, 

And left the gudeman bot the bledoch bair. 
Than in the mornyng up scho gatt. 

And on hir hairt laid hir disjune ; 
Scho put als mekle in hir lap, 

As micht haif ser[v]d them baith at nune. 

Sayis, '* Jok, will thou be maister of wark, 

And thou sail had, and I sail kail ; 
Ise promise the ane gude new sark, 

Athir of round claith or of smalL" 
Scho lousit oxin aucht or nyne. 

And hynt ane gad-staff in hir hand ; 
And the gudman raiss eftir syne. 

And saw the wyf had done command. 

And caud the gaisHngis furth to feid ; 

Thair was bot sevensum of thame all ; 
And by thair cumis the gredy gled, 



THE AYTfF OF ACCHTIKMUCHTT. 119 

And likkit up five, left him bot twa. 
Than out he ran in all his mane, 

How sune he hard the gaislingis cry ; 
Bot than or he come in agane. 

The calfis brak louss and sowkit the ky. 

The calvis and ky being met in the lone, 

The man ran with ane rung to red ; 
Than by thair cumis ane ill- willy cow, 

And brodit his buttok quhill that it bled. 
Than hame he ran to an rok of tow. 

And he satt doun to say the spynning ; 
I trow he lowtit our neir the low, 

Quoth he, " This wark hes ill begynning." 

Than to the kyrn that he did stoure. 

And jumlit at it quhill he swatt: 
Quhen he had jumlit a full lang houre, 

The sorrow crap of butter he gatt. 
Albeit na butter he could gett, 

Yit he wes cummerit with the kyrne, 
And syne he het the milk our hett. 

And sorrow a spark of it wald yirne. 

Than ben thair come ane gredy sow, 

I trow he cund hir littil thank ; 
For in scho schot hir mekle mow. 

And ay scho winkit and scho dranl^ 
He cleikit up ane crukit club. 

And thocht to hitt the sow ane rout : 



120 THE WYF OF AUCnTIRMUCHTT. 

The tvva gaislingis the gled had left, 
That straik dang baith thair harnis out. 

[He gat his foot upon the spyre, 

To have gotten the flesche doune to the pat ; 
He fell backward into the tyre, 

And brack ,his head on the kerning stock. 
Yit he gat the mekle pat upon the fyre, 

And gat twa Cannes, and ran to the spout ; 
Er he came in, quhat thought ye of that ? 

The fyre brunt aw the pat-a. . . out.] ^ 

Than he beur kendling to the kill. 

But scho start all up in ane low ; 
Quhat evir he hard, quhat evir he saw, 

That day he had na will to mow. 
Then he yeid to tak up the bairnis, 

Thocht to half fund thame fair and clene ; 
The first that he gat in his armis 

Was all bedirtin to the ene. 

The first that he gat in his armis, 

It was all dirt up to the eine ; 
*' The devill cut of thair handes," quoth he, 

" That fild you all sa fow this strene." 
He trailit fouU scheitis doun the gait, 

1 This stanza, which does not occur in the Bannatync 
MS., or in the ordinary printed copies, is given by Laing 
from a MS. " written in a hand not much later than the year 
1600. ' 



THE "WYF OF AUCHTIRMUCHTT. 121 

Thought to haif wescht tharae on ane stane $ 
The burne wes rissin grit of spait, 
Away fra him the scheitis hes tane. 

Then up he gat on ane know held, 

On hir to crj,^ on hir to schout ; 
Scho hard him, and scho hard him not, 

Bot stoutly steird the stottis about. 
Scho draif the day unto the night, 

Scho lousit the pluch, and syne come harae ; 
Scho fand all wrang that sould bene richt, 

I trow the man thought richt grit schame, 

Quoth he, " My ofRce I forsaik. 

For all the dayis of my lyf, 
For I wald put ane house to wraik. 

Had I bene twenty dayis gudwyf." 
Quoth scho, " Weill mote ye bruke your placCj 

For trewlie I will never excep it : " 
Quoth he, " Feind fall the lyaris face, 

Bot yit ye may be blyth to get it." 

Than up scho gat ane mekle rung, 

And the gudman maid to the doir^ ; 
Quoth he, " Dame, I sail hald my tung, 

For and we fecht Till get the woir." 
Quoth he, " Quhen I forsuk my pluche, 

I trow I but forsuk my seill ; 
And I will to my pluch agane, 

Ffor I and this howse will nevir do weill." 
1 MS. Cray 2 MS. dur. 



122 THE FRIAR IN THE WELL. 



•THE FRIAR IN THE WELL. 

An old story, often referred to, e. g. in Skelton'g 
Colyn Chute, v. 879. The ballad is found in various 
collections in the British JVIuseum, and is cited in part 
from one of these, in Dyce's note to the passage in Skel- 
ton. There is a Scottish version in Kinloch's Ballad 
Book, p. 25. The following is from Durfey's Pills to 
Purge Melancholy, iii. 325 (The Fryer and the Maid), 
but as that copy is abridged, we have supplied the 
omitted stanzas from Chappell's Popular Music, p. 
273. 

As I lay musing all alone, 

A merry tale I thought upon ; 

Now listen a while, and I will you tell 

Of a fryer that loved a bonny lass well. 

He came to her when she was going to bed, 

Desiring to have her maidenhead ; 

But she denyed his desire, 

And said that she did fear hell-fire. 

" Tush, tush," quoth the fryer, " thou needst not 

doubt. 
If thou wert in hell, I eould sing thee out : " 
" Why then," quoth the maid, " thou shalt have 

thy request ; " 
The fryer was as glad as a fox in his nest. 



THE FRIAR IN THE WELL. ] 23 

'^ But one thing more I musjt require/ 
More than to sing me out of hell-fire ; 
That is, for doing of the thing, 
An angel of money you must me bring." 

"Tush, tush," quoth the fryer, "we two shall 

agree ; 
No money shall part thee, [my love,] and me ; 
Before thy company I will lack, 
I'll pawn the grey gown off my back." 

The maid bethought her on a wile, 
How she might this fryer beguile. 
When he was gone, the truth to tell. 
She hung a cloth before a well. 

The fryer came, as his bargain was. 

With money unto his bonny lass ; 

" Good morrow, fair maid ; " " Good morrow," 

quoth she ; 
" Here is the money I promis'd thee." 

She thank'd him, and she took the money ; 
" Now lets go to't, my own dear honey : ' 
" Nay, stay awhile, some respite make ; 
If my master should come, he would us take." 

" Alas ! " quoth the maid, " my master doth 

come." 
" Alas ! " quoth the fryer, " where shall I run ? " 

1 request. 



124 THE FRIAR IN THE WELL. 

" Behind yon cloth run thou," quoth she, 
" For there my master cannot see." 

Behind the cloth the fryer went, 

And was in the well incontinent. 

" Alas ! " quoth he, " I'm in the well ; " 

" No matter " quoth she, " if thou wert in hell 

" Thou saidst thou could sing me out of hell : 
I prithee sing thyself out of the well. 
Sing out," quoth she, " with all thy might. 
Or else thou'rt like to sing there all night." 

The fryer sang out with a pitiful sound, 
" O help me out, or I shall be drowai'd." 
[" I trow," quoth she, " your courage is cool'd ; " 
Quoth the fryer, " I never was so fool'd. 
" I never was served so before ; " 
" Then take heed," quoth she, " thou com'st here 
no more." 

Quoth he, " For sweet St. Francis sake, 

On his disciple some pity take : " 

Quoth she, " St. Francis never taught 

His scholars to tempt young maids to naught." 

The friar did entreat her still 
That she would help him out of the well . 
She heard him make such piteous moan. 
She help'd him out, and bid him begone. 



GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR. 12.3 

Quoth lie, " Shall I have my money again, 
Which from rae thou liast before-hand ta'en ? " 
" Good sir," quoth she, '* there's no such matter ; 
I'll make you pay for fouling the water." 

The friar went along the street, 
Dropping wet, hke a new-wash'd sheep ; 
Both old and young commended the maid 
That such a witty prank had play'd.] 



GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR. 

Herd's Scottish Sonffs, ii. 63. 

First printed by Herd in a slightly different form, 
ed. 1776, ii. 159; also Johnson's Museum, p. 310, and 
Ritson's Scottish SojigSy i. 226. The hero of this 
story is traditionally known as one Johnie Blunt, who 
lived on Crawford Moor. Several versions of a somr 

o 

called by his name are current among the Scottish 
peasantry, one of which is given in Johnson's Museum, 
p. 376. — This ballad, says Stenhouse, furnished Prince 
Hoare with one of the principal scenes in his musical 
entertainment of No Song, no Supper, " acted at Drury 
Lane in 1790, and since throughout the United King- 
dom with great success." 

It fell about the Martinmas time, 
And a gay time it was than, 



126 GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR. 

That our gudewife had puddings to mak, 
And she boil'd them in the pan. 

The wind blew cauld frae east and north, 
And blew into the floor ; 
Quoth our gudeman to our gudewife, 
" Get up and bar the door." 

" My hand is in my hussyskep, 
Goodman, as ye may see ; 
An' it shou'dna be barr'd this hunder year, 
It's ne'er be barr'd by me." 

They made a paction 'tween them twa, 
They made it firm and sure, 
That the first word whaever spak. 
Should rise and bar the door. 

Than by there came twa gentlemen, 
At twelve o'clock at night. 
Whan they can see na ither house. 
And at the door they light. 

"Now whether is this a rich man's house, 
Or whether is it xi poor ? " 
But ne'er a word wad ane o' them speak, 
For barring of the door. 

And first they ate the white puddings, 
And syne they ate the black : 



GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR. 127 

Muckle thought the gudewife to hersell, 
Yet ne'er a word she spak. 

Then ane unto the ither said, 
" Here, man, tak ye my knife ; 
Do ye tak aff the auld man's beard, 
And I'll kiss the gudewife." 

" But there's na water in the house, 
And what shall we do than ? " 
"What ails ye at the pudding bree 
That boils into the pan ? " 

O up then started our gudeman, 
An angry man was he ; 
" Will ye kiss my wife before my een, 
And scald me wi' pudding bree ? " 

O up then started our gudewife, 

Gied three skips on the floor ; 

" Gudeman, you have spak the first word; 

Get up and bar the door." 



THE DRAGON OF WANTLLr. 

Percy's Reliques, iii. 350. Old Bnllads," i. 37. 

This in its way most admirable ballad is clearly a 
parody of some ancient Kcempevise. The armor stud- 
ded with spikes connects this story with the legend of 
the Worin of j^ambton (see vol. i. p. 281, and joos<,P' 
]86), Avhich, we are inclined to think with Grundtvig 
(i. 346), may have some radical connection with Reg- 
ner Lodbrog's fight with the snake that guarded Tho- 
ras bovver. The well in v. 100 corresponds to the pit 
in which the hero stands in Ormekampen, Grundtvig. 
i. 342. — Printed by Percy from a copy in Roman let- 
ter, in the Pepys Collection, " collated with such others 
as could be procured." Percy. 

Old stories tell how Hercules 

A dragon slew at Lerna, 
With seven heads, and fourteen eyes, 
To see and well discerne-a : 
But he had a club, this dragon to drub, 

Or he had ne'er done it, I warrant ye : 
But More of More-Hall, with nothing at all, 
He slew the dragon of Wantley. 

This dragon had two furious wings 

Each one upon each shoulder ; 
With a sting in his tayl, as long as a flayl, 
Which made him bolder and bolder. 
He had long claws, and iu his jaws 

Four and forty teeth of iron. 
With a hide as tough as any buff, 
Which did him round environ. 



THE DRAGON OF WANTLET. 129 

Have you not heard how the Trojan horse 

Held seventy men in his belly ? 
This dragon was not quite so big, 
But very near, I'll tell ye. 
Devoured he poor children three, 

That could not with him grapple ; 
And at one sup he eat them up, 
As one would eat an apple. 

All sorts of cattle this dragon did eat ; 

Some say he ate up trees, 
And that the forests sure he would 
Devour up by degrees ; 
For houses and churches were to him geese and 
turkies ;^ 
He ate all, and left none behind. 
But some stones, dear Jack, that he could not 
crack, 
Which on the hills you will find. 

In Yorkshire, near fair Rotherham, 

The place I know it well, 
Some two or three miles, or thereabouts, 
I vow I cannot tell; 
But there is a hedge, just on the hill edge, 

And Matthew's house hard by it ; 
there and then was this dragon's den. 
You could not chuse but spy it. 

1 were to him gorse and birches. Other copies. 
VOL. VIII. 9 



130 THE DRAGON OP WANTLEY. 

Some say, this dragon was a witch ; 

Some say, he was a devil ; 
For from his nose a smoke arose, 
And with it burning snivel ; 
Which he cast off, when he did cough, 

In a well that he did stand by, 
Which made it look just like a brook 
Running with burning brandy. 

Hard by a furious knight there dwelt, 

Of whom all towns did ring, 
For he could wrestle, play at quarter-staff, kick, 
cuff and huff, 
Call son of a w . . . ., do any kind of thing. 
By the tail and the main, with his hands 
twain, 
He swung a horse till he was dead ; 
And that which is stranger, he for very anger 
Eat him all up but his head. 

These children, as I told, being eat, 

Men, women, girls, and boys, 
Sighing and sobbing, came to his lodging, 
And made a hideous noise ; 
" O save us all. More of More-Hall, 

Thou peerless knight of these woods ; 
Do but slay this dragon, who won't leave us a 
rag on. 
We'll give thee all our goods." 



THE DRAGON OF WANTLET. 131 

" Tut, tut," quoth he, "no goods I want : 

But I want, I want, in sooth, 
A fair maid of sixteen, that's brisk and keen, 
With smiles about the mouth, 
Hair black as sloe, skin white as snow, 

With blushes her cheek? adorning. 
To anoynt me o'er night, ere I go to fight, 
And to dress me in the morning." 

This being done, he did engage 

To hew the dragon down ; 
But first he went, new armour to 
Bespeak at Sheffield town ; 
With spikes all about, not within but without. 

Of steel so sharp and strong. 
Both behind and before, arms, legs, and all o'er, 
Some five or six inches long. 

Had you but seen him in this dress, 
How fierce he look'd and Ifow big, 
. You w^ould have thought him for to be 

Some Egyptian porcupig. 
He frighted all, cats, dogs, and all. 

Each cow, each horse, and each hog : 
For fear they did flee, for they took him to be 
Some strange outlandish hedge-hog. 

To see this fight, all people then 
Got up on trees and houses; 



132 THE DRAGON OF WANTLET. 

On churches some, and chimneys too ; 
But these put on their trowses, 
Not to spoil their hose. As soon as he rose. 

To make him strong and mighty, 
He drank by the tale, six pots of ale, 

And a quart of aqua-vita3. 

It is not strength that always wins. 

For wit doth strength excell ; 
Which made our cunning champion 
Creep down into a well, 
Where he did think, this dragon would drink, 

And so he did in truth ; 
And as he stoop'd low, he rose up and cry'd, 
" Boh ! " 
And hit him in the mouth. 

" Oh," quoth the dragon, " pox take thee, come 
out! 
Thou disturb'st me in my drink : " 
And then he turn'd, and s ... at him ; 
Good lack how he did stink ! 
" Beshrew thy soul, thy body's foul. 
Thy dung smells not like balsam ; 

Thou son of a w , thou stink'st so sore, 

Sure thy diet is unwholesome." 

Our politick knight, on the other side. 

Crept out upon the brink, 
And gave the dragon such a douse, 



THE DllAGON OF WANTLET. 133 

He knew not what to think : 
•* By cock," quoth he, " say you so, do you see ? " 

And then at him he let fly 
With hand and with foot, and so they went to't ; 

And the word it was. Hey boys, hey ! 

" Your words," quoth the dragon, " I don't un- 
derstand ; 
Then to it they fell at all. 
Like two wild boars so fierce, if I may 
Compare great things with small. 
Two days and a night, with this dragon did 
fight 
Our champion on the ground ; 
Though their strength it was great, their skill it 
was neat, 
They never had one wound. 

At length the hard earth began to quake, 

The dragon gave him a knock, 
Which made him to reel, and straitway he 

thought, 
To lift him as high as a rock. 
And thence let him fall. But More of More-Hall, 

Like a valiant son of Mars, 
As he came like a lout, so he lurn'd him about. 
And hit him a kick on the a . . . 

" Oh," quoth the dragon, with a deep sigh, 
And turn'd six times together, 



J 34 THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY. 

Sobbing and tearing, cursing and swearing, 
Out of his throat of leather ; 

^ More of More-Hall ! O thou rascal ! 

Would I had seen thee never ; 
With the thing at thy foot, thou hast prick'd my 
a . . . gut, 

And I am quite undone forever." 

" Murder, murder," the dragon cry'd, 

" Alack, alack, for grief; 
Had you but mist that place, you could 
Have done me no mischief." 
Then his head he shaked, trembled and quaked, 

And down he laid and cry'd ; 
First on one knee, then on back tumbled he, 
So groan'd, kickt, s . . ., and dy'd. 



*^* In the improved edition of the Rehques, a most ex- 
traordinary attempt to explain the foregoing burlesque as 
an allegory (!) is made in a " Key" appended to the ballad, 
and said to be " communicated by Godfrey Bosville, Esq., of 
Thorp, near Malton, in Yorkshire." 

" Waracliff Lodge, and Wamcliff Wood (vulgarly pro- 
nounced Wantley), are in the parish of Penniston, in Yoik- 
shire. The rectory of Penniston was part of the dissolved 
monastery of St. Stephen's, Westminster; and was gi*anted 
to the Duke of Norfolk's family: who therewith endowed an 
hospital, which he built at Sheffield, for women. The trus- 
tees let the impropriation of the gi-eat tithes of Penniston to 
the Wortley family, who got a great deal by it, and wanted 



THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY. 1^5 

to get still more: for ^Ir. Nicholas Wortley attempted to tako 
the tithes in kind, but Mr. Francis Bosville opposed him, and 
there was a decree in favour of the modus in 37th Eliz. The 
vicarage of Penniston did not go along with the rectory, but 
with tlie copyhold rents, and was part of a large purchase 
made by Ralph Bosville, Esq., from Queen Elizabeth, in the 
2d year of her i-eign : and that part he sold in 12th Eliz. to 
his elder brother Godfrey, the father of Francis ; who left it, 
witli the rest of his estate, to his wife, for her life, and then 
to Ralph, third son of his uncle Ralph. The widow married 
Lyonel Rowlestone, lived eighteen years, and survived Ralph- 
*' This premised, the ballad apparently relates to the law- 
suit carried on concerning this claim of tithes made by the 
Wortley family. ' Houses and churches were to him geese 
and turkeys: ' Avhich are titheable things, the Dragon chose 
to live on. Sir Francis Wortley, the son of Kicholas, at- 
tempted again to take the tithes in kind: but the parishion- 
ers subscribed an agi'eement to defend their modus. And at 
the head of the agreement was Lyonel Rowlestone, who is 
supposed to be one of 'the stones, dear Jack, which the 
Dragon could not crack.' The agreement is still preserved 
in a large sheet of parchment, dated 1st of James I., and is 
full of names and seals, which might be meant by the coat 
of armour, " with spikes all about, both within and without." 
More of More-hall was either the attorney, or counsellor, 
who conducted the suit. He is not distinctly remembered, 
but More-hall is still extant at the very bottom of Wantley 
[WarncliffJ Wood, and lies so low, that it might be said to be 
in a well: as the Dragon's den ["Wanicliif Lodge] was at the 
top of the wood ' with Matthew's house hard by it.' The 
keepers belonging to the Wortley family were named, for 
many generations, jMatthew Northall : the last of them left 
this lodge, within memory, to be keeper to the Duke of Nor- 
folk. The present owner of More-hall still attends Mr. Bos- 
ville's ^Lanor Court at Oxspring, and pays a rose a year. 
' More of More-Hall, with nothing at all, slew the Dragon of 
Wantley.' He gave him, instead of tithes, so small a modus, 
that it was in effect, nothing at all, and was slaj ing him with 
a vengeance. ' The poor children three,' &c., cannot surely 



136 THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY. 

mean the three sisters of Francis Bosville, who would have 
been coheiresses, had he made no will ? The late Mr. Bos- 
ville had a contest with the descendants of two of them, the 
late Sir George Saville's father, and Mr. Copley, about the 
presentation to Penniston, they supposing Francis had not 
the power to give this part of the estate from the heirs at 
law; but it was decided against them. The Dragon (Sir 
Francis Wortley) succeeded better with his cousin Wordes- 
worth, the freehold lord of the manor, ( for it is the copyhold 
manor that belongs to Mr. Bosville,) having persuaded him 
not to join the refractory parishioners, under a promise that 
he would let him his tithes cheap : and now the estates of 
Wortley and Wordesworth are the only lands that pay tithes 
in the parish. 

" N. B. The * two days and a night,' mentioned on page 
136. as the duration of the combat, was probably that of the 
trial at law." 



NoiE to page 128, and page 131, Grundtvig, ii. 653, 
refers to a Boeotian legend in Pausanias ix. 26, 5, for an in- 
stance of a similar contrivance. The story goes, that one 
Menestratus, to save a friend who was about to be exposed 
ill due course to a dragon, made himself a brazen breast- 
plate, which had on every scale a hook with the point bent 
upwards. Armed in this, he went voluntarily to meet the 
monster, and destroyed him, though at the expense of his 
own life. 



APPENDIX 



KEMPY KAYE. 

From Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 81. 

There is a resemblance in two points between this 
ballad and the Danish Grece Genselin (Grundtvig, No. 
16, translated by Jamieson, I/lus(ratlons, p. 310). 
The characters in both are giants : the smallest kemp 
that danced at Genselin's bridal was " fifteen ells to his 
knee." Secondly, the bridal in the one ballad and 
the wooing in the other are described in a style of ex- 
travagant parody ; more gross in the English, how- 
ever, than in the Danish, where it is confined to the 
bride's enormous appetite. This portion of Greve 
Genselin oi^cuvs also in Toj^d nf Havsgnard (Griiudi- 
vig. No. 1), which ballad is founded upon the story of 
Thor's Hammer in the Edda. 

Kempy Kaye's a wooing gane, 

Far far ayont the sea, 
An' he has met with an auld auld man, 

His gudefather to be. 

" Gae scrape yeersel, and gae scart yeersel, 
And mak your bruchty face clean, 

For the wooers are to be here the nicht, 
And yeer body's to be seen. ^ 

" What's the matter wi' you, my fair maiden, 

You luk so pale and wan ? 
I'm sure you was once the fairest maiden 

That ever the sun shined on." 



^ Var. For Kempy Kaye's to be here the nicht, 
Or else the morn at een. 



140 KEMFY KAYE. 

Sae they scrapit her, and they scartit her, 

Like the face of an assy pan, 
And in cam Kempy Kaye himself, 

A clever and tall young man. 

His teeth they were like tether sticks, 

His nose was three feet lang ; 
Between his shouthers was ells three, 

Between his een a span.i 

" I'm coming to court your dochter dear, 

An' some pairt of your gear : " 
" An' by my sooth," quo' Bengoleer, 

" She'll sair a man o' weir. 

" My dochter she's a thrifty lass ; 

She span seven year to me ; 
An' if it war weil counted up, 

Full ten wobs it would be." 

He led his dochter by the han'. 

His dochter ben brought he ; 
" O is she not the fairest lass 

That's in great Christendye ? ** 

Bka hair intil her head 

Was like a heather cow, 
And ilka louse aninder it 

Was Hke a lintseed bow, ^ 

1 See King Henry, v. 21, 22, vol. i. p. 148, and The 3'e< 
Wee Mfin, vol. i p. 126, note. Also Carle of CnrlUe, v. 177- 
18S, in iladden's Syr Gaimyne, p. 256. 

2 Vnr. Wii? like a brucket vowe. 



KE-MPY KATE. 141 

She had lauchty teeth, an' kaily lips, 

An' wide lugs fu' o' hair ; 
Her pouches fu' o' pease-meal daigh, 

AVar hinging down her spare. 

Ilka ee intil her head 

Was like a rotten ploom, 
An' down down browit was the quean, 

An' sairly did she gloom. 

Uka nail upon her hand 

Was like an iron rake, 
An' ilka teeth into her head 

Was like a tether stake. 

She gied to him a gay gravat 

O' the auld horse's sheet. 
And he gied her a gay gold ring 

O' the auld couple reet. 



KEMPY KAYE. 
From Kiriloch's Ballad Booh, p. 41. 

Kempy Kaye is a wooing gane 

Far far ayont the sea, 
And there he met wi' auld Goling. 

His gudefather to be, be, 

His gudefather to be. 



142 KEMPY KAYE. 

" Whar are ye gaun, Kempy Kaye, 
Whar are ye gaun sa sune ? " 

" O I am gaun to court a wife, 

And think na ye that's weel dune, dune, 
And think na ye that's weel dune ? " 

" And ye be gaun to court a wife, 

As ye do tell to me, 
'Tis ye sail hae my Fusome Fug, 

Your ae wife for to be, be, 

Your ae wife for to be." 

" Rise up, rise up my Fusome Fug, 
And mak your foul face clean. 

For the brawest wooer that ere ye saw 
Is come develling doun the green, green, 
Is come develling doun the green." 

Up then raise the Fusome Fug, 

To mak her foul face clean ; 
And aye she curs'd her mither 

She had na water in, in, 

She had na water in. 

She rampit out, and she rampit in, 

She rampit but and ben ; 
The tittles and tattles that hang frae her tail 

Wad muck an acre o' land, land. 

Wad muck an acre o' land. 

She had a neis upon her face 
Was like an auld pat-fit ; 



KEMPT KATE. 143 

Atween lier neis bot and her mou 
Was inch thick deep o' dirt, dirt, 
TVas inch thick deep o' dirt. 

She had twa een intil her head 

War like twa rotten plooras ; 
The heavy brows hung down her face, 

And O I vow she glooms, glooms I 

And I vow she glooms 1 

Ilka hair that was on her head 

Was like a heather cow, 
And ilka louse that lookit out 

Was like a lintseed bow, bow, 

Was like a lintseed bow. 

When Kempy Kaye cam to the house, 

He lookit thro' a hole, 
And there he saw the dirty drab 

Just whisking oure the coal, coal, 

Just whisking oure the coal. 

He gied to her a braw silk napkin, 

Was made o' an auld horse brat ; 
" I ne'er wore a silk napkin a' my life, 

But weel I wat Is'e wear that, that, 

But weel I wat Is'e wear that." 

He gied to her a braw gowd ring. 
Was made frae an auld brass pan , 

" I ne'er wore a gowd ring in a' my life, 
But now I wat I'se wear ane, ane, 
But now I wat Is'e wear ane." 



144 THE JOVIAL HUNTER OF BROMSGROVE. 

Whan thir twa loves had met thegither, 
O kissing to tak their fill, 

The slaver that hang atween their twa gabs 
Wad hae tether'd a ten year auld bill, bill, 
Wad hae tether'd a ten year auld bill. 



THE JOVIAL HUNTER OF BROMS- 
GROVE. 

From Ancient Poems^ Ballads, and Songs of the 
Peasantry of England, edited by Robert Bell, p. 124. 
This ballad, says the editor, " has long been popular 
in Worcestershire and some of the adjoining counties. 
It was printed for the first time by Mr. Allies of Wor- 
cester, under the title of The Jovial Hunter of Broms- 
grove ; but amongst the peasantry of that county, and 
the adjoining county of Warwick, it has always been 
called The Old Man and his Three Sons — the name 
given to a fragment of the tballad still used as a nur- 
sery song in the north of England, the chorus of 
which slightly varies from that of the ballad : (see 
p. 250 of the same publication.) Mr. Bell imagines 
that there is an allusion to this ballad in As You Like 
It, I. 2, where Le Beau says 

" There comes an old man and his three sons," 

and Celia replies, 

" I could match this beginning with an old tale." 



THE JOVIAL HUNTER OF 15R0MSGR0VE. 145 

Old Sir Robert Bolton had three sons, 

Wind well thy horti, good hunter ; 
And one of them was Sir Ryalas, 

For he was a jovial hunter. 

He ranged all round down by the wood side, 

Wind well thy horn, good hunter, 
Till in a tree-top a gay lady he spied, 

For he was a Jovial hunter. 

" (), what dost thee mean, fair lady ? " said he, 

Wind well thy horn, good hunter ; 
" The wild boar's killed my lord, and has thirty meu 
gored, 

And thou heest a jovial hunter. 

" O what shall I do this wild boar for to see ? " 

Wind well thy horn, good hunter ; 
" 0, thee blow a blast, and he'll come unto thee, 

As thou heest a jovial hunter. 

Then he blowed a blast, full north, east, west and 
south, 

Wind well thy horn, good hunter ; 
And the wild boar then heard him full In his den, 

As he was a jovial hunter. 

Then he made the best of his speed unto him, 

H'ind tvell thy horn, good hunter ; 
[Swift flew the boar, with his tusks smeared with 
gore,]i 
To Sir Byalas, the jovial hunter. 
1 Inserted by Bell. 
VOL. VIII. 10 



146 THE JOVIAL HUNTER OF BROMSGROVE. 

Then the wild boar, being so stout and so strong, 

Wind icell thy horn, good hunter ; 
Thrashed down the trees as he ramped him along, 

To Sir Ryalas, the Jovial hunter. 

" O what dost thee want of me ? " wild boar, said 
he, 

Wind ivell thy horn, good hunter ; 
" I think in my heart I can do enough for thee. 

For 1 am the Jocial hunter." 

Then they fought four hours in a long summer day. 

Wind well thy horn, good hunter ; 
Till the wild boar fain would have got him away 

From Sir Ryalas, the jovial hunter. 

Then Sir Ryalas drawed his broad sword with might, 

Wind well thy horn, good hunter ; 
And he fairly cut the boar's head off quite, 

For he was a jovial hunter. 

Then out of the wood the wild woman flew, 

Wind well thy horn, good hunter ; 
" O my pretty spotted pig thou hast slew, 

For thou beest a jovial hunter. 

" There are three things, I demand them of thee. 

Wind well thy horn, good hunter ; 
" It's thy horn, and thy hound, and thy gay lady, 

As thou beest a jovial hunter." 

" If these three things thou dost ask of me," 
Wind well thy horn, good hunter ; 



THE JOVIAL nUNTER OF BROMSGROVE. 147 

It's just as my sword and tliy neck can agree, 
For I am a jovial hunter." 

Then into his long locks the wild woman flew, 

Wind loell thy horn, good hunter; 
Till she thought in her heart to tear him through, 

Though he was a Jovial hunter. 

Then Sir Ryalas drawed his broad sword again. 

Wind ivell thy horn, good hunter ; 
And he fairly split her head into twain, 

For he was a jovial hunter. 

In Bromsgrove church, the knight he doth lie. 

Wind icell thy horn, good hunter ; 
And the wild boar's head is pictured thereby. 

Sir Ryalas, the jovial hunter. 



THE BLUDY SEEK. 

The Bludy SerTc, both story and morality, is taken 
trom the Gesta Romanorum ; see two forms of the 
tale in Madden's Old English Versions, &c. p. 22, 
p.' 404. 

This poem is preserved in the Bannatyne Manu- 
ecript, and has been several times printed. The pres- 
ent copy is from Laing's Select Remains of the Ancient 
Popular Poetry of Scotland. The author is Robert 
Henryson, whose ballad of Rohene and Makyne haa 
been given in the fourth volume of this collection. 



148 THE BLUDY SEEK. 

This hindir yeir I hard be tald, 

Thair was a worthy king ; 
Dukis, erlis, and barronis bald, 

He had at his bidding. 
The lord was anceane and aid, 

And sexty yeiris eowth ring ; 
He had a dochter, fair to fald, 

A lusty lady ying. 

Off all fairheid scho bur the flour, 

And eik hir faderis air ; 
Off lusty laitis and he honour ; 

Melk, bot and debonair. 
Scho wynnit in a bigly hour ; 

On fold wes none so fair ; 
Princes luvit hir, paramour, 

In cuntries our all quhair. 

Thair dwelt a lyt besyde the king 

A fowll gyane of ane ; 
Stollin he hes the lady ying. 

Away with hir is gane ; 
And kest hir in his dungering, 

Quhair licht scho micht se nane ; 
Hungir and cauld and grit thristing 

Scho fand in to hir wame. 

He wes the laithliest on to luk 
That on the grund mycht gang ; 

His nailis wes lyk ane hellis cruk, 
Thairwith fy\e quarteris lang. 

Thair wes nane that he ourtuk. 
In rycht or yit in wrang, 



THE BLUDY SERK. 1-lU 

But all in schondir lie thame scliukb, 
The gyane wes so Strang. 

He held the lady day and nycht 

Within his deip dungeoun ; 
He wald nocht gif of hir a sicht 

For gold nor yit ransoun, 
Bot gife the king mycht get a knycht 

To fecht with his persoun, 
To fecht with him, both day and nycht, 

Quhill ane wer dimgin doun. 

The king gart seik baith fer and neir, 

Beth be se and land, 
Off any knycht gife he micht heir, 

Wald fecht with that gyand. 
A worthy prince, that had no peir, 

Hes tane the deid on hand, 
For the luve of the lady cleir, 

And held full trewe cunnand. 

That prince come prowdly to the toun, 

Of that gyane to heir. 
And fawcht with him, his awin persoun, 

And tuke him presonier, 
And kest him in his awin dungeoun, 

AUane withouttin feir, 
With hungir, cawld, and confusioun, 

As full Weill worthy weir ; 

Syne brak the hour, had hame the brichtt 
Vnto hir fadlr he ; ^ 

1 MS. deir. 



loO THE BLUDY SERK. 

Sa evil wondit was the kuycht, 

That he behuvit to de. 
Unlusum was his llkame dicht, 

His sark was all bludy ; 
In all the warld was thair a wicht 

So petyouse for to se ! 

The lady murnyt, and maid grit mone, 

"With all her mekle micht : 
" I lufit nevir lufe, hot one, 

That dulfully now is dicht ! 
God sen my lyfe wer fra me tone, 

Or I had sene yone sicht ; 
Or ellis in begging evir to gone, 

Furth with yone curtass knycht ! ** 

He said, " Fair lady, now mone I 

De, trestly ye me trow : 
Tak ye my sark that is bludy. 

And hing it forrow yow : 
First think on it, and syne on me, 

Quhen men eumis yow to wow." 
The lady said, " Be Mary fre, 

Thairto I mak a wow." 

Quhen that scho lukit to the serk, 

Sc'ho thocht on the persoun, 
And prayit'for him with all hir harte, 

That lowsd hir of bandoun, 
Quhair scho was wont to sit full merk, 

In tliat deip dung^oun ; 
And ever quhill scho wes in quert, 

That wass hir a lessoun. 



THE BLUDY SERK. 151 

Sa Weill the lady luvit the knycht, 

That no man wald scho tak : 
Sa suld we do our God of micht 

That did all for us mak ; 
Quhilk fullely to deid was dicht, 

For siniull manis saik; 
Sa suld we do both day and nycht, 

With prayaris to him mak. 

MORALITAS. 

This king is lyk the trinitie, 

Baith in hevin and heir : 
The manis saule to the lady, 

The gyane to Lucefeir : 
The knycht to Chryst, that deit on tre, 

And coft our synnis deir : 
The pit to hell, with panis fell, 

The syn to the woweir. 

The lady was wowd, but scho said nay, 

With men that wald hir wed ; 
Sa suld we wryth all syn away, 

That in our breistis bred. 
I pray to Jesu Chryst verrey 

For us his blud that bled. 
To be our help on domysday, 

Quhair lawis ar straitly led. 

The saule is Godis dochtir deir, 

And eik his handewerk, 
That was betrasit with Lucifeir, 

Quha sittis in hell full merk. 



152 THE WANTON WIFE OF BATH. 

Borrowit witli Cliiystis angell cleir, 
Hend men, will ye nocht lierk? 

For Ills lufe that boclit us deir, 
Think on the Bludy Serk! 



THE WANTON WIFE OF BATH. 

Evans's Old Ballads, i. 277 ; Collection of 1723, ii. 173. 

This excellent ballad, to adopt the encomium of 
Addison, (Spectator, No. 247,) was admitted by Percy 
into the earlier editions of the Reliques, (iii. 146, 1st 
ed.) though excluded from the revised edition of 
1794. The same story circulates among the peas- 
antry of P2ngland and Scotland in the form of a 
penny tract or chap-book; Notices of Popular His- 
tories, p. 16, Percy Soc. vol. xxiii.. Notes and Queries. 
New Series, vol. iii. p. 49. The jest is an old one. 
Mr. Halliwell refers to a fabliau in Barbazan's col- 
lection, which contains the groundwork of this piece. 
Du Vilain qui conquist Paradis par Plait , Meon's ed. 
iv. 114. 

In Bath a wanton wife did dwell, 

As Chaucer he doth write, 
Who did in pleasure spend her days, 

In many a fond delight. 

Upon a time love sick she was, 
And at the length did die ; 



THE WANTON "WIFE OF BATH. 15cJ 

Her soul at last at Heaven's gate 
Did knock most mightily. 

Then Adam came unto the gate : 
'* Who knocketh there ? " quoth he : 

' I am the Wife of Bath," she said, 
" And fain would come to thee." 

" Thou art a sinner," Adam said, 

" And here no place shall have ; " 
" And so art thou, 1 trow," quoth she, 

" And gip, a doting knave ! 

" I will come in in spite," she said, 

" Of all such churls as thee ; 
Thou wert the causer of our woe, 

Our pain and misery ; 

".And first broke God's commandnients, 

In pleasure of thy wife : " 
When Adam heard her tell this tale, 

He run away for life. 

Then down came Jacob at the gate. 

And bids her pack to hell : 
*' Thou false deceiver, why ? " said she ; — 

" Thou mayst be there as well. 

■' For thou deceiv'dst thy father dear. 

And thine own brother too :" 
Away slunk Jacob presently, 

And made no more ado 



154 THE WANTON WIFE OF BATH. 

She knocks again with miglit and main, 
And Lot he chides her straight : 

" Why then," quoth she, " thou drunken ass, 
Who bid thee here to prate ? 

" With thy two daughters thou didst lie, 

On them two bastards got : " 
And thus most tauntingly she chaft 

Against poor silly Lot. 

" AYlio calleth there," quoth Judith then, 
" AVith such shrill sounding notes ? " 

" This fine minks surely came not here," 
Quoth she, " for cutting throats ! " 

Good Lord, how Judith blush'd for shame, 

When she heard her say so 1 
King David hearing of the same. 

He to the gate did go. 

Quoth David, " Who knocks there so loud, 

And maketh all this strife ? " 
" You were more kind good sir," she said, 

" Unto Uriah's wife. 

" And when thy servant thou didst cause 

In battle to be slain. 
Thou causedst then more strife than I, 

Who would come here so fain." 

" The woman's mad," said Solomon, 
" That thus doth taunt a king ; " 



THE WANTON WLFi: OF BATH. 155 

" Not half so mad as you," she said, 
"1 trow, ill many a thing. 

" Thou hadst seven hundred wives at once, 

For whom thou didst provide, 
And yet three hundred wh , God wot, 

Thou didst maintain beside. 

" And those made thee forsake thy God, 

And worship stocks and stones ; 
Besides the charge they put thee to 

In breeding of young bones. 

" Hadst thou not been besides thy wits. 
Thou wouldst not thus have ventur'd ; 

And therefor I do marvel much 
How thou this place hast entered." 

" I never heard," quoth Jonas then, 

" So vile a scold as this ; " 
" Thou wh • • • son runaway," quoth she, 

" Thou diddest more amiss." 

" They say," quoth Thomas, " women's tongues 

Of aspen leaves are made ; " 
" Thou unbelieving wretch," quoth she, 

" All is not true that's said." 

When Mary Magdalen heard her then, 

She came unto the gate ; 
Quoth she, " Good woman, you must think 

Upon your former state.*' 



156 THE WANTON WIFE OF BATH. 

" No sinner entrrs in this place," 

Quoth Mary Magdalen then ; 
** 'Twere ill for you, fair mistress mild, 

She answered her again. 

" You for your honesty," quoth she, 
" Had once been ston'd to death, 

Had not our Saviour Christ come by 
And written on the earth. 

*' It was not by your occupation 

You are become divine ; 
I hope my soul, by Christ's passion, 

Shall be as safe as thine." 

Then rose the good apostle Paul; 

Unto this wife he cried, 
" Except thou shake thy sins away. 

Thou here shalt be denied." 

** Remember, Paul, what thou hast done, 

All thro' a lewd desire, 
How thou didst persecute God's church 

With wrath as hot as fire." 

Then up starts Peter at the last, 

And to the gate he hies ; 
" Fond fool," quoth he, " knock not so fast, 

Thou weariest Christ with cries." 

*' Peter," said she, " content thyself, 
For mercy may be won ; 



THE WAN ION WIFE 0> tjATH. 157 

I never did deny my Clirkt 
As thou thyself hast don>>."* 

When as our Saviour Christ heard this, 

With heavenly angels bright, 
He comes unto this sinful soul, 

Who trembled at his sight. 

Of him for mercy she did crave ; 

Quoth he, " Thou hast refused 
My proffer'd grace and mercy both, 

And much my name abused." 

" Sore have I sinn'd, O Lord," she said, 

" And spent my time in vain ; 
But bring me, like a wand'ring sheep, 

Into thy fold again. 

" O Lord my God, I will amend 

My former wicked vice ; 
The thief for one poor silly word 

Past into Paradise." ^ 

" My laws and my commandments," 
Saith Christ, " were known to thee ; 

But of the same. In any -wise, 
Not yet one word did ye." 

"I grant the same, O Lord," quoth she ; 

" Most lewdly did I live ; 
But yet the loving father did 

His prodigal son forgive." 



158 THE GENTLEMAN IN THRACIA. 

" So I fortrive thy soul," he said, 
" Through thy repenting cry ; 

Come you therefore iiito my joy, 
I will not thee deny." 



THE GENTLEMAN IN THRACIA. 

From Collier's Roxburylie Ballads, p. 17. 

This ballad is founded on a tale in the Gesfa Roma- 
norum, (Old English Versions, &c. p. 140.) Nearly 
the same story occurs in Barbazan's Fabliaux, ii. 440, 
and also, says Madden, in the Conies Tariares of 
Gueulette, iii. 157, and many other places. The 
model for all these is of course the Judgment of Solo- 
mon, in 1 Kings, iii. 16-27. See Douce, ii. 385. 

Mr. Collier remarks that this ballad is without date, 
but was undoubtedly written late in the sixteenth or 
early in the seventeenth, century. 

In searching ancient chronicles. 

It was my chance to finde 
A story worth the writing out, 

In my conceit and mind. 
It is an admonition good 

That children ought to have, 
With reverence for to thinke upon 

Their parents laid in grave. 

In Thracia liv'd a gentleman, 
Of noble progeny, 



THE GENTLEMAN IN THRACIA. 159 

Who i-ul'd bis bouseliold with great fame, 

And true intogrity. 
This gentleman did take to wife 

A neat and gallant dame, 
Whose outward shew and beauty bright 

Did many hearts inflame. 

The luster that came from her lookes, 

Her carriage and her grace, 
Like beauteous Cynthia did outshine 

Each lady in that place. 
And being puffed up in pride. 

With ease and jollity, 
Her husband could not her content ; 

She other men must try. 

Lasciviously long time she liv'd, 

Yet bore it cunningly ; 
For she had those that watch'd so well, 

That he could nought espy. 
With bribes and gifts she so bewitch'd 

The hearts of some were neere. 
That they conceal'd her wickednesse, 

And kept it from her deare. 

Thus spending of her time away 

In extreme wantonesse, 
Her private friends, when she did please^ 

Unto her had accesse. 
But the all-seeing eye of heaven 

Such sinnes will not conceale, 
And by some meanes at la£t will he 

The truth of all reveale. 



160 THE GENTLEMAN IN THRACIA. 

Upon a time sore sicke she fell, 

Yea to the very death, 
And her physician told her plaine ' 

She must resigne her breath. 
Divines did likewise visit her, 

And holy counsel! gave, 
And bade her call upon the Lord, 

That he her soule might save. 

Amongst the rest, she did desire 

They would her husband bring; 
" I have a secret to reveale," 

She said, " my heart dotli sting.*' 
Then he came posting presently 

Unto her where she lay. 
And weeping then he did desire, 

What she to him would say. 

She did intreat that all might voyd 

The roome, and he would stay ; 
" Your pardon, husband, I beseech," 

Unto him she did say : 
' For I have wrong'd your marriage -bed. 

And plaid the wanton wife ; 
To you the truth I will reveale, 

Ere I depart this Hfe. 

* Foure hopefull sonues you thmk you have ; 

To me it best is knowne, 
And three of them are none of yours ; 

Of foure but one's your owne. 
And by your'selfe on me begot, 

Which hath a wanton beene ; 



THE GENTLEMAN IN TH^IACIA. 161 

riiese djing teares forglvenesse beg; 
Let mercy then be scene." 

This strooke her husband in a dump, 

His heart was almost dead ; 
But rouzing of his spirits up, 

These words to her he said. 
" I doe forgive thee with my heart, 

So thou the truth wilt tell, 
Which of the foure is my owne sonno, 

And all things shall be well." 

" O pardon me, my husband deare," 

Unto him she did say ; 
" They are my children every one,** 

And so she went away. 
Away he goes with heavy heart; 

His griefes he did conceale. 
And like a wise and prudent man. 

To none did it reveale. 

Not knowing which to be his owne, 

Each of his love did share. 
And to be train'd in vertues paths 

Of them he had a care. 
In learning great and gentle grace 

They were brought up and taught, 
Such deare affection in the hearts 

Of parents God hath wrought. 

They now were growne to mens estates, 
And liv'd most gallantly ; 
VOL. vin. 11 



162 THE GENTLEMAN IN THRACIA. 

Each had his horse, his hawke, his hoiind, 

And did their manhood try. 
The ancient man did joy thereat, 

But yet he did not know 
Which was his sonne amongst the tbure ; 

That bred in him much woe. 

At length his glasse of Ufe was run, 

The fates doe so decree ; 
For poore and rich they all must dye, 

And death will take no fee. 
Unto some judges he did send, 

And counsell that were grave, 
Who presently to him did come 

To know what he would have. 

They coming then to his beds side, 

Unto them he did say : 
" I know you all to be my friends, 

Most faithfull every way ; 
And now, before I leave the world, 

I beg this at your hands, 
To have a care which of my sonnes 

Shall have my goods and lands." 

And to them all he did relate 

What things his wife had done. 
" There is but one amongst the foure 

That Is my native sonne ; 
And to your judgement I commit, 

When I am laid in grave. 
Which is my sonne, and which Is fit 

My lands and goods to have." 



THE GENTLEMAN IN THRACIA. 163 

He dying, they in coimcill sate 

What best were to be done ; 
For 'twas a taske of great import 

To judge which was his sonne. 
The brothers likewise were at strife, 

Which should the living have, 
When as the ancient man was dead, 

And buried in his grave. 

The judges must decide the cause, 

And thus they did decree : 
The dead man's body up to take, 

And tye it to a tree ; 
A bow each brother he must have, 

And eke an arrow take, 
To shoot at their dead fathers corps, 

As if he were a stake. 

And he whose arrow nearest hit 

His heart, as he did stand, 
They'd judge him for to be right heire, 

And fit to have the land. 
On this they all did straight agree. 

And to the field they went ; 
Each had a man his shaft to beare. 

And bow already bent. 

" Now," quoth the judges, " try your skill 

Upon your father there, 
That we may quickly know who shall 

Unto the land be heire." 
The oldest took his bow in hand, 

And shaft, where as he stood, 



164 THE GENTLEMAN IN THRACIA. 

Which pierc'd so deep the dead mans brest, 
That it did run with blood. 

The second brother then must shoot, 

Who straight did take his aime, 
And with his arrow made a wound, 

That blood came from the same. 
The third likewise must try his skill 

The matter to decide ; 
Whose shaft did make a wound most deep 

Into the dead man's side. 

Unto the fourth and youngest, then, 

A bow and shaft were brought ; 
AVho said, " D'ee thinke that ere my heart 

Could harbour such a thought, 
To shoot at my dear father's heart, 

Although that he be dead, 
For all the kingdomes in the world 

That farre and wide are spread ? " 

And turning of him round about. 

The teares ran downe amalne : 
He flung his bow upon the ground. 

And broke his shaft in twaine. 
The judges seeing his remorse, 

They then concluded all 
He was the right, the other three 

They were unnaturalL 

And so he straight possest the lands, 
Being made the heire of all, 



WniTTINGTON'S ADVANCEMENT. 165 

And heaven by nature In tills kind 

Unto bis heart did call. 
His brothers they did envy him, 

But yet he need not care, 
And of his wealth, in portions large, 

Unto them he did share. 



Sm RICHARD WHITTINGTON'S 
ADVANCEMENT. 

This ballad is taken from The Crowne- Garland 
of Golden Roses, p. 20, Percy Society, vol. vi. An- 
other copy is in A Collection of Old Ballads, i. 130. 
A play called The History of Whittington was entered 
on the Stationers' books in Feb. 1604, and the " fa- 
mous fable of Whittington and his puss " is mentioned 
in Eastward Hoe, 1605. (Weber and Halliwell.) 

" There is something so fabulous," (says the editor 
of Old Ballads, following Grafton and Stow,) " or at 
least, that has such a romantic appearance, in the 
history of Whittington, that I shall not choose to 
relate it ; but refer my credulous readers to common 
tradition, or to the penny histories. Certain it is 
that there was such a man ; a citizen of London, by 
trade a mercer, and one who has left pubhc edifices 
and charitable works enow behind him, to transmit 
his name to posterity. Amongst others, he founded a 
house of prayer ; with an allowance for a master, fel- 
lows, choristers, clerks, &c., and an almshouse for 



166 whittington's advancement. 

thirteen poor men, called Wliittington College. He 
entirely rebuilt the loathsome prison, which then was 
standing at the west gate of the city, and called it 
Newgate. He built the better half of St. Bartholo- 
mew's Hospital, in West-Smitlifield, and the fine 
library in Grey-Fryars, now called Christ's Hospital . 
as also great part of the east end of Guildhall, with a 
chapel, and a library in which the records of the city 

might be kept 'Tis said of him, that he advanced 

a very considerable sum of money towards carrying 
on the war in France, under this last monarch. He 
married Alice, the daughter of Hugh and Molde Fitz- 
warren : at whose house, traditions say, Whittington 
lived a servant, when he got his immense riches by 
venturing his cat in one of his master's ships. How- 
ever, if we may give credit to his own will, he was a 
knight's son ; and more obliged to an English king 
and prince, than to any African monarch, for • his 
riches. For when he founded Wliittington College, 
and left a maintenance for so many people, as above 
related, they were, as Stow records it, for this main- 
tenance bound to pray for the good estate of Richard 
Whittington, and Alice his wife, their founders ; and 
for Sir William Whittington, and Dame Joan his 
wife ; and for Hugh Fitzwarren, and Dame Molde his 
wife ; the ftithers and mothers of the said Richard 
Whittington and Alice his wife ; for King Richard 
the Second, and Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of 
Gloucester, special lords and promoters of the said 
Richard Whittington, &c." 

Richard Whittington was Sheriff of London in the 
ISth year of Richard the Second, 1394, was then 
knighted, and chosen Iklayor in the 22d year of th<» 



"WHIttixgton's advancement. ]G7 

same leifrn, 1398. He was again Mayor In the 9th 
year of Henry the Fourth, 1407, and the 8th of Henry 
the Fifth, 1420. 

Keightley has devoted a chapter of his Tales and 
Popular Fictions (the seventh) to the legend of 
Whittington and his Cat. He cites two similar stories 
from Thiele's Danish Popular Traditions, another 
from the letters of Count Magalotti, a Florentine of 
the latter half of the 17th century, another from the 
Facezie of Arlotto, a Tuscan humorist of the 15th 
century, another, of Venetian origin, from a German 
chronicle of the 13th century, and finally one from 
the Persian Tarikh al Wasaf, a work said to have 
been composed at the end of the 13th or the begin- 
ning of the 14th century. Mr. Halliwell adds one 
more of a Portuguese wrecked on the coast of Guinea, 
from the Description of Guinea, 1665. 

Here must I tell the praise 

Of worthy Whitttington, 
Known to be in his dayes 

Thrice Maior of London. 
But of poor parentage, 

Borne was he, as we heare, 
And in his tender age 

Bred up in Lancashire. 

Poorely to London than 

Came up this simple lad, 
Where, with a marchant-man, 

Soone he a dwelling had ; 
And in a kitchen plast, 

A scullion for to be 



168 whittington's advancement. 

Whereas long time lie past 
In labour drudofinofly. 

His daily service was 

Turning spitts at the fire ; 
And to scour pots of brasse, 

For a poore scullions hire- 
Meat and drinke all his pay, 

Of coyne he had no store ; 
Therefore to run away, 

In secret thought he bore. 

So from this marchant-man, 

Whittington secretly 
Towards his country ran, 

To purchase liberty. 
But as he went along, 

In a fair summer's morne, 
Londons bells sweetly rung, 

" Whittington, back return ! ** 

Evermore sounding so, 

" Turn againe, Whittington ; 
For thou in time shall grow 

Lord-Maior of London." 
Whereupon back againe 

Whittington came with speed, 
A prentise to remaine. 

As the Lord had decreed. 

" Still blessed be the bells ; 
( This was his daily song) 



whittington's advancement. ir>9 

They my good fortune tells, 

Most sweetly have they rung. 
If God so favour me, 

I will not proove unkind ; 
London my love shall see, 

And my great bounties find." 

But see his happy chance ! 

This scullion had a cat, 
WTiich did his state advance, 

And by it wealth he gat. 
His maister ventred forth. 

To a land far unknowne. 
With marchandize of worth, 

As is in stories showne. 

Whittington had no more 

But this poor cat as than, 
Which to the ship he bore. 

Like a brave marchant-man. 
*' Vent'ring the same," quoth he, 

" I may get store of golde, 
And Maior of London be. 

As the bells have me told." 

Whittington's marchandise, 

Carried was to a land 
Troubled with rats and mice, 

As they did understand. 
The king of that country there, 

As he at dinner sat, 
Daily remain'd in fear 

Of many a mouse and rat 



170 whittington's advancement. 

Meat that in trencliers lay, 

No way tlicy could keepe safe ; 
But by rats borne away, 

Fearing no wand or staff. 
Whereupon, soone they brought 

Whittingtons nimble cat ; 
Which by the king wa» bought ; 

Heapes of gold giv'n for that 

Home againe came these men 

With their ships loaden so, 
Whittingtons wealth began 

By this cat thus to grow. 
Scullions life he forsooke 

To be a marchant good. 
And soon began to looke 

How well his credit stood. 

After that he was chose 

Shriefe of the citty heere, 
And then full quickly rose 

Higher, as did appeare. 
For to this cities praise, 

Sir Kichard Whittington 
Came to be in his dayes 

Thrise Maior of London. 

More his fame to advance. 
Thousands he lent his king. 

To maintaine warres in France, 
Glory from thence to bring. 

And after, at a feast 
Which he the king did make, 



whittington's advancement. 171 

He burnt the bonds all In jeast, 
And would no money take. 

Ten thousand pound be gave 

To his prince willingly, 
And would not one penny have ; 

This in kind curtesie. 
God did thus make^ him great, 

So w^ould he daily see 
Poor people fed with meat. 

To shew his charity. 

Prisoners poore cherish'd were, 

Widdowes sweet comfort found ; 
Good deeds, both far and neere, 

Of him do still resound. 
Whittington Colledge is 

One of his charities ; 
Records reporteth this 

To lasting memories. 

Newgate he builded faire, 

For prisoners {o live in ; 
Christs-Church he did repaire, 

Christian love for to Avin. 
Many more such like deedes 

Were done by Whittington ; 
Which joy and comfort breedes, 

To such as looke thereon. 

Lancashire, thou hast bred 
This flower of charity : 
1 made. 



172 catskin's garland. 

Though he be gon and dead 
Yet lives he lastingly. 

Those bells that call'd him so, 
" Turne again, Whittington,"* 

Call you back many moe 
To live so in London. 



CATSKIN'S GARLAND, OR, THE WANDER- 
ING YOUNG GENTLEWOMAN. 

Moore's Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry, p. 596 

Only in a very debased form is this enchanting 
tale preserved by English tradition. The following 
ballad is given, in the collection cited above, from a 
modern broadside, but has here received a few im- 
provements from two other copies cited by tlie ed- 
itor. Mr. Halliwell has printed another version of 
Catskin in The Nursery Rhymes of England, p. 48, 
Percy Society, vol. iv. The story is possessed by 
almost every nation in Europe. It is found not only 
among the Northern races, but among the Hungarians, 
Servians, Wallachians, Welsh. Italians, and French. In 
Germany it is current in a great variety of forms, the 
two most noteworthy of which are Aschenputtel, to 
which correspond Cennerentola in the Pentamerone 
(i. 6), the Cendrillon of Perrault, and the Finette 
Cendron of Madame d'Aulnoy ; and Allerlei-Rauh, 
which is the same as the Peau d'Ane of Perrault, the 
She-Bear of the Pentamerone (ii. 6), and the Dora- 



catskin's garland. 173 

lice of Straparola (i. 4). — See the Grimms' Kinder- 
nnd-Haus-Mdrche7i, No. 21, 65, and notes in vol. iii. ; 
also the Swedish story of The Little Gold Shoe, and 
The Girl clad in Mouse-skin, from the Danish, in 
Thorpe's Yule Tide Stories, pp. vii. 112, 375. 

PART I. 

You fathers and mothers, and children also, 
Come near unto me, and soon you shall know 
The sense of my ditty, for I dare to say. 
The like hasn't been heard of this many long 
day. 

This subject which to you I am to relate, 
It is of a 'squire who had a large estate ; 
And the first dear infant his wife she did bare, 
Was a young daughter, a beauty most fair. 

He said to his wife, " Had this but been a boy ; 
It would please me better, and increase my joy ; 
If the next be of the same sort, I declare, 
Of what I am possessed it shall have no share." 

In twelve months after, this woman, we hear, 
Had another daughter, of beauty most clear ; 
And when her father knew 'twas a female. 
Into a bitter passion he presently fell. 

Saying, " Since this is of the same sort as the first, 

In my habitation she shall not be nurs'd ; 

Pray let it be sent into the country. 

For where I am, truly this child shall not be." 



174 catskin's garland. 

With tears his dear wife unto him did say, 
" My dear, be contented, I'll send her away.** 
Then into the country this child she did send, 
For to be brought up by an intimate friend. 

Altho' that her father hated her so, 

He good education on her did bestow, 

And with a gold locket, and robes of the best, 

This sliojhted young damsel was commonly drest. 

But when unto stature this damsel was grown, 
And found from her father she had no love shewn, 
She cried, " Before I will lie under his frown, 
T am fully resolv'd to range the world round." 



PART II. 

But now mark, good people, the cream of the jest, 
In what a strange manner this female was drest: 
Catskins into a garment she made, I declare, 
The which for her clothing she daily did wear. 

Her own rich attire, and jewels beside. 
They up in a bundle together were ty'd ; 
And to seek her fortune she wander'd away. 
And when she had wander'd a cold winter's day, 

In the evening-tide she came to a town. 
Where at a knight's door she sat herself down, 
For to rest herself, who was weary for sure. 
This noble knight's lady then came to the door, 



GARLAND. 175 

4.nd seeing this creature in such sort of dress, 
The lady unto her these words did express, 
" From whence came you, or what will you have ? " 
She said, " A night's rest in your stable I crave." 

The lady said to her, " I grant thy desire, 
Come into the kitchen, and stand by the fire ; " 
Then she thank'd the lady, and went in with haste, 
Where she was gaz'd on from biggest to the least. 

And, being warm'd, her hunger was great. 
They gave her a plate of good food for to eat ; 
And then to an outhouse this damsel was led. 
Where with fresh straw she soon made her a bed. 

And when in the morning the day-light she saw, 
Her rich robes and jewels she hid in the straw ; 
And being very cold, she then did retire, 
And went into the kitchen, and stood by the fire. 

The cook said, "My lady prorais'd that thou^ 
Shouldest be a scullion to wait on me now : ^ 
What say'st thou, girl, art thou willing to bide ? " 
" With all my heart," then she to her reply'd. 

To work at her needle she could very well. 
And [for] raising of paste few could her excel ; 
She being so handy, the cook's heart did win. 
And then she was call'd by the name of Catskin. 

1 thee. 2 upon me. 



176 catskin's garland. 

PART III. 

This knight had a son both comely and tall, 
Who often-times used to be at a ball, 
A mile out of town, and one evening-tide, 
To see a fine dancing away he did ride. 

Catskin said to his mother, " Madam, let me 
Go after your son, this ball for to see." 
With that, in a passion this lady she grew, 
And struck her with a ladle, and broke it in two. 

Being thus served, she then got away, 
And in her rich garments herself did array ; 
Then to see this ball she then did retire, 
Where she danced so fine all did her admire. 

The sport being done, this young squire did say, 
" Young lady, where do you live, tell me, I pray ? " 
Her answer to him was, " Sir, that I will tell ; 
At the sign of the Broken Ladle I dwell." 

She being very nimble, got home first, 'tis said, 
And with her catskin robes she soon was arrayed ; 
Then into the kitchen again she did go. 
But where she had been none of them did know. 

Next night the young 'squire, himself to content, 
To see the ball acted, away then he went. 
She said, " Let me go this ball for to view ; " 
She struck her with a skimmer, and broke it in two. 

Then out of doors she ran, being full of heaviness, 
And with her rich garments herself she did dress; 



catskin's garland. 177 

For to &ee this ball she ran away with speed, 
And to see her dancing all wonder'd indeed. 

Tlie ball being ended, tlie 'squire said then, 
" Pray where do you live ? " She answered again,^ 
" Sir, because you ask me, account I will give ; 
At the sign of the Broken Skimmer I live." 

Being dark, she left him, and home[ward] did hie, 
And in her catskin robes she was drest presently, 
And into the kitchen among them she went, 
But where she had been they were all innocent. 

[When] the 'squire came home and found Catskin 

there. 
He was in amaze, and began for to swear, 
" For two nights at the ball has been a lady. 
The sweetest of beauties that e'er I did see. 

" She was the best dancer in all the whole place, 
And very much like our Catskin in the face ; 
Had she not been drest in that costly degree, 
I would have sworn it was Catskin's body." 

Next night he went to see this ball once more ; 
Then she ask'd his mother to go as before ; 
Who having a bason of water in hand. 
She threw it at Catskin, as I understand. 

Shaking her wet ears, out of doors she did run, 
And dressed herself when this thing she had done , 

1 answered him. 
VOL. vin. 12 



178 catskin's garland. 

To see this ball acted she then run her ways, 
To see her fine dancing all gave her the praise. 

And having concluded, the young squire he 

Said, " From whence do you come, pray now tell 

me?" 
Her answer was, " Sir, you shall know the same, 
From the sign of the Bason of Water I came." 

Then homeward she hurried, as fast as might be. 
This young 'squire then was resolved to see 
Whereto she belong'd, then follow'd Catskin : 
Into an old straw-house he saw her creep in. 

He said, " O brave Catskin, I find it is thee, 
Who these three nights together has so charmed me ; 
Thou'rt the sweetest creature my eyes e'er beheld ; 
With joy and comfort my heart it is fiU'd. 

" Thou art the cook's scullion, but as I have life, 
Grant me [but] thy love, and I'll make thee my wife, 
And you shall have maids to wait at your call." 
" Sir, that cannot be ; I've no portion at all." 

' Thy beauty is portion, my joy and my dear ; 
I prize it far better than thousands a year ; 
And to gain my friends' consent, I've got a trick ; 
I'll go to my bed and feign myself sick. 

" There's none shall attend me but thee, I profess,^ 
And some day or other in thy richest dress 

* protest. 



catskin's garland. 179 

Thou slialt be drest ; if my parents come nigh, 
I'll tell them that for thee sick I do lie." 



PART IV. 

Having thus consulted, this couple parted. 
Next day this young 'squire took to his bed. 
When his dear parents this thing perceiv'd, 
For fear of his death they were heartily griev'd. 

To tend him they sent for a nurse presently : 
He said, " None but Catskin my nurse now shall be." 
His parents said, " No." He said, " But she shall, 
Or else I'll have none for to nurse me at all." 

His parents both wonder'd to hear him say thus. 
That no one but Catskin must be his nurse ; 
So then his dear parents their son to content, 
Up into the chamber poor Catskin they sent. 

SAveet cordials and other rich things were prepar'd, 
Which betwixt this young couple was equally shar'd ; 
And when all alone, they in each other's arms 
Enjoy'd one another in love's pleasant charms. 

At length on a time poor Catskin, 'tis said, 
Tn her rich attire she then was array'd ; 
And when his mother the chamber drew near, 
Then much like a goddess did Catskin appear. 

Which caus'd her to startle, and thus she did say ; 
" What young lady's this, son, tell me I pray ? " 



180 catskin's garland. 

He said, " It is Catskin, for whom I sick lie, 
And without I have her with speed I shall die." 

His mother ran down for to call the old knight, 
Who ran up to see this amazing great sight ; 
He said, " Is this Catskin we hold so In scorn ? 
I ne'er saw a finer dame since I was born." 

The old knight said to her, "I pry'thee tell me, 
From whence dost thou come, and of what family." 
Then who was her parents she gave them to know, 
And what was the cause of her wanderinji so. 

The young 'squire said, " If you will save my life, 
Pray grant this young creature may be my wife." 
His father reply'd, " Your life for to save, 
If you are agreed, my consent you shall have." 

Next day, with great triumph and joy, as we hear, 
There were many coaches came far and near ; 
She much like a goddess drest in great array, 
Catskin to the 'squire was married that day. 

For several days this great wedding did last. 
Where was many topping and gallant rich guests ; 
And for joy the bells rung all over the town, 
And bottles of claret went merrily round. 

When Catskin was married, her fame to raise. 
To see her modest carriage all gave her the praise ; 
Thus her charming beauty the squire did win. 
And who lives so great as he and Catskin V 



catskin's garland. 181 



PART V. 



Now in the fifth part I'll endeavour to shew, 
How things with her parents and sister did go ; 
Her mother and sister of life [are] bereft, 
And all alone the old knight he was left. 

And hearing his daughter being married so brave, 
He said, " In my noddle a fancy I have ; 
Drest like a poor man a journey I'll make, 
And see if on me some pity she'll take. 

Then drest like a beggar he goes to the gate. 
Where stood his daughter, who appear'd very great ; 
He said, " Noble lady, a poor man I be, 
And am now forced to crave charity." 

With a blush she asked him from whence he came. 

With that then he told her, and also his name ; 

She said, " I'm your daughter, whom you shghted 

so, 
Yet, nevertheless, to you kindness I'll shew. 

" Thro' mercy the Lord hath provided for me. 
Now, father, come in and sit down," then said she. 
Then the best of provisions the house could afford, 
For to make him welcome was set on the board. 

She said, " Thou art welcome ; feed hearty, I pray j 
And, if you are willing, with me you shall stay 
So long as you live." Then he made this reply . 
•' I am only come thy love for to try 



182 THE TAMING OF A SHREW. 

" Thro' mercy, my child, I am rich, and not poor ; 
I have gold and silver enough now in store ; 
And for the love that at thy house I have found, 
For a portion I'll give thee ten thousand pounds." 

So in a few days after, as I understand, 
This man he went home and sold off his land ; 
And ten thousand pounds to his daughter did give, 
And now altogether in love they do live. 



THE TAMING OF A SHREW. 

RiTSOx's Ancient Songs and Ballads, ii. 242. " From 
one of the Sloan MSS. in the Museum, No. 1489. 
The writing of Charles the First's time." A far su- 
perior poem on the very popular subject of the dis- 
ciplining of wives is that of The Wife Lapped in 
Morels Skin, printed in Utterson's Select Pieces oj 
Early Popular Poetry, ii. 173, and as an appendix to 
the Shakespeare Society's edition of the old Taming 
of a Shrew. As a counterpart to these pieces may be 
mentioned the amusing poem called Ane Ballad of 
Matrymonie, in Laing's Select Remains, or, The Honey- 
moon, Aytoun's Ballads of Scotland, i. 284. 

Al you that are assembled heere, 

Come listen to my song. 
But first a pardon I must crave. 

For feare of further wrong ; 
I must entreat thes good wyves al 

They wil not angrye be, 



THE TAMING OF A SHREW. 183 

And I will sinp: a merrye song< 
If they thereto agi^ee. 

Because the song I mean to sing 

Doth touch them most of all, 
And loth I were that any one 

With me shold chide and brawle. 
I have anoiigh of that at home, 

At boarde, and eake in bed ; 
And once for singing this same song 

My wyfe did breake my head. 

But if thes good wyA'es all be pleasd, 

And pleased be the men, 
He venture one more broken pate. 

To sing it once agayne. 
But first He tell you what it's cald. 

For feare you heare no more ; 
*Tis calde the Taming of a Shrew, 

Not often sung before. 

And if I then shall sing the rest, 

A signe I needs must have ; 
Hold but your finger up to me. 

Or hem, — that's al I crave — 
Then wil I sing it with a harte. 

And to it roundelye goe ; 
You know my mynde, now let me see 

Whether I shal sing't or no. Hem. 

Well then, I see you wilhng are 
That I shall sing the reste ; 



184 THE TAMING OF A SHREW. 

To pleasure al thes good wyves heire 

I meane to do my best. 
For I do see even by their lookes 

No liurte to me they thinke, 
And thus it chancte upon a tyme, 

(But first give me a drinke.) 

Not long agoe a lustye lad 

Did woe a livelye lasse, 
And long it was before he cold 

His purpose bring to passe ; 
Yet at the lenth it thus fell out, 

She granted his petition, 
That she would be his wedded wyfe, 

But yet on this condicion. 

That she shold weare the breeches on 

For one yeare and a day, 
And not to be controld of him 

Whatsoere she'd do or say.^ 
She rulde, shee raignd, she had hir wil 

Even as she wold require ; 
But marke what fell out afterwards, 

Good wyves I you desyre. 

She made him weary of his lyfe ; 

He wisht that death wold come. 
And end his myserye at once, 

Ere that the yeare was run ; 
He thought it was the longest yeare 

That was since he was borne, 

1 she did or said. 



THE TAMING OF A SHREW. 185 

But he cold not the matter mend, 
For he was thereto sworne. 

Yet hath the longest day his date ; 

For this we al do know, 
Although the day be neer soe long, 

To even soone wil it goe. 
So fell it out with hir at lenth, 

The yeare was now come out ; 
The sun, and moone, and all the starrcs, 

Their race had run about. 

Then he began to rouse himselfe. 

And to his wyfe he saide, 
*' Since that your raigne is at an end, 

Now know me for your heade.'* 
But she that had borne swaye so long 

Wold not be under brought, 
But stil hir tounge on pattens ran, 

Though many blowes she caught. 

He bet hir backe, he bet hir syde, 

He bet hir blacke and blew ; 
But for all this she wolde not mend, 

But worse and worse she grew. 
When that he saw she wolde not mend, 

Another way wrought hee ; 
He mewde hir up as men mew hawkes, 

Where noe light she cold see. 

And kept hir without meate or drinke 
For four dayes space and more ; 



186 THE TAMING OF A SHREW. 

Yet for all this she was as ill 

As ere she was before. 
When that he saw she wold not mend, 

Nor that she wold be quiet, 
Neither for stroakes nor locking up, 

Nor yet for want of dyet, 

He was almost at his wits end, 

He knew not what to doe ; 
So that with gentlenes againe 

He gane his wyfe to woo. 
But she soone bad him holde his peace, 

And sware it was his best. 
But then he thought him of a wyle 

Which made him be at rest. 

He told a frend or two of his 

What he had in his mynde ; 
Who went with him into his house, 

And when they all had dynde, 
" Good wyfe," quoth he, "thes frends of myne 

Come hither for your good ; 
There lyes a vayne under your toung. 

Must now be letten blood." 

Then she began to use hir tearmes. 

And rayled at them fast ; 
Yet bound they hir for al hir strenth 

Unto a poaste at laste, 
And let hir blood under the toung. 

And tho she bled full sore. 
Yet did she rayle at them as fast 

As ere she raylde before. 



THE TAMING OF A SHREW. 187 

" Wei then," quoth he, " the faulte I see, 

She hath it from her mother ; 
It is hir teeth infects hir toung, 

And it can be noe other ; 
And since I now doe know the cause, 

Whatsoever to me befall, 
De plucke hir teeth out of hir toung, 

Perhaps hir toung and all." 

And with a payre of pinsers strong 

He pluckt a great tooth out, 
And for to plucke another thence, 

He quicklye went about. 
But then she held up both her hands. 

And did for mercye pray, 
Protesting that against his will, 

She wold not doe nor saye. 

Whereat hir husband was right glad, 

That she had changde hir mynde, 
For from that tyme unto hir death 

She proved both good and kynde. 
Then did he take hir from the poast, 

And did unbind hir then ; 
I wold al shrews were served thus 5 

Al good wy ves say Amen. 



188 TITUS ANDRONICUS'S COMPLAINT 



TITUS ANDRONICUS'S COMPLAINT. 

On tlie 6th of February, 1593-4, A Nolle Roman 
History e of Tytus Andronicus, was entered in the 
Stationers' Registers, to John Danter, and also " the 
ballad thereof." The earliest known edition of Shake- 
bpeare's play was in 1600. The differences between 
this play and the ballad are thus stated by Percy. 

" In the ballad is no mention of the contest for 
the empire between the two brothers, the composing 
of which makes the ungrateful treatment of Titus 
afterwards the more flagrant : neither is there any 
notice taken of his sacrificing one of Tamora's sons, 
which the tragic poet has assigned as the original 
cause of all her cruelties. In the play, Titus loses 
twenty-one of his sons in war, and kills another for 
assisting Basslanus to carry off Lavinia ; the reader 
will find it different in the ballad. In the latter she 
is betrothed to the Emperor's son : in the play to his 
brother. In the tragedy, only two of his sons fall 
into the pit, and the third, being banished, returns 
to Rome with a victorious army, to avenge the wrongs 
of his house : in the ballad, all three are entrapped, 
and suffer death. In the scene, the Emperor kills 
Titus, and is in return stabbed by Titus's surviving 
son. Here Titus kills the Emperor, and afterwards 
himself" ***** 

" The following is given from a copy in The Golden 
Garland, entitled as above ; compared with three 
others, two of them in black letter in the Pepys col- 



TITCJS ANDRONICUS'S COMPLAINT. 189 

lection, entitled The Lamentahle and Tragical History 
of Titus Andronicus, kc. To the Tune of Fortune. 
Printed for E. Wright. — Unluckily, none of these 
have any dates." Percy's Reliques, i. 238. 

You noble minds, and famous martiall wights, 
That in defence of native country fights. 
Give eare to me, that ten yeeres fought for Rome, 
Yet reapt disgrace at my returning home. 

In Rome I lived in fame fulle threescore yeeres, 
My name beloved was of all my peeres ; 
Fulle five-and-twenty valiant sonnes I had. 
Whose forwarde vertues made their father glad. 

For when Romes foes their warlike forces bent, 
Against them stille my sonnes and I were sent ; 
Against the Goths full ten yeeres weary warre 
We spent, receiving many a bloudy scarre. 

Just two-and-twenty of my sonnes were slaine 
Before we did returne to Rome againe : 
Of five-and-twenty sonnes, I brought but three 
Alive, the stately towers of Rome to see. 

When wars were done, I conquest home did bring, 
And did present my prisoners to the king. 
The queene of Goths, her sons, and eke a Moore, 
Which did such murders, like was nere before. 

The emperour did make this queene his wife, 
Which bred in Rome debate and deadly strife ; 



190 TITCS ANDRONICUS'S COMPLAINT. 

The Moore, with her two sonnes, did growe 'soe proud, 
That none Hke them in Rome might bee allowd. 

The Moore soe pleas'd this new-made empress' ele, 
That she consented to him secretlye 
For to abuse her husbands marriage bed, 
And soe in time a blackamore she bred. 

Then she, whose thoughts to murder were inclinde, 
Consented with the ]\Ioore of bloody minde, 
Against myselfe, my kin, and all my friendes, 
In cruell sort to bring them to their endes. 

Soe when in age I thought to live in peace. 
Both care and griefe began then to increase : 
Amongst my sonnes I had one daughter bright, 
Which joy'd and pleased best my aged sight. 

My deare Lavinia was betrothed than 
To Cesars sonne, a young and noble man : 
Who, in a hunting, by the emperours wife, 
And her two sonnes, bereaved was of life. 

He, being slaine, was cast in cruel wise 
Into a darksome den from light of skies : 
The cruell Moore did come that way as then 
With my three sonnes, who fell into the den. 

The Moore then fetcht the emperour with speed. 
For to accuse them of that murderous deed ; 
And when my sonnes within the den were found, 
fn wrongfuU prison they were cast and bound. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS'S COMPLAINT. 191 

But nowe behold what wounded most my mind : 
The empresses two sonnes, of savage kind, 
My daughter ravished without remorse, 
And took away her honour, quite perforce. 

When they had tasted of soe sweete a flowre, 
Fearing this sweete should shortly turne to sowre, 
They cutt her tongue, whereby she could not tell 
How that dishonoure unto her befell. 

Then both her hands they basely cutt off quite, 
Whei'eby their wickednesse she could not write, 
Nor with her needle on her sampler sowe 
The bloudye workers of her direfull woe. 

My brother Marcus found her in the wood, 
Staining the grassie ground with purple bloud. 
That trickled from her stumpes, and bloudlesse armes: 
Noe tongue at all she had to tell her harmes. 

But when I sawe her in that woefull case. 
With teares of bloud I wet mine aged face : 
For my Lavinia I lamented more 
Then for my two-and-twenty sonnes before. 

When as I sawe she could not write nor speake, 
With grief mine aged heart began to breake ; 
We spred an heape of sand upon the ground. 
Whereby those bloudy tyrants out we found. 

For with a staffe, without the helpe of hand. 
She writt these wordes upon the plat of sand : 



192 TITUS ANDRONICUS'S COMPLAINT. 

*' The lustful! sonnes of the proud emperessc 
Are doers of this hateful -wickednesse." 

I tore the milk-white hairs from off mine head, 
I curst the houre wherein I first was bred ; 
I wisht this hand, that fought for countries fame, 
In cradle rockt, had first been stroken lame. 

The Moore, delighting still in villainy. 

Did say, to sett my sonnes from prison free, 

I should unto the king my right hand give. 

And then my three imprisoned sonnes should live. 

The Moore I caus'd to strike it off with speede, 
Whereat I grieved not to see it bleed, 
But for my sonnes would willingly impart, 
And for their ransome send my bleeding heart. 

But as my life did linger thus in paine. 
They sent to me my bootlesse hand againe, 
And therewithal the heades of my three sonnes, 
Which filled my dying heart with fresher moanes. 

Then past reliefe, I upp and downe did goe. 
And with my teares writ in the dust my woe : 
I shot niy arrowes towards heaven hie, ' 
And for revenge to hell often did crye. 

The empresse then, thinking that I was mad. 
Like Furies she and both her sonnes were clad, 
(She nam'd Kevenge, and Rape and Murder they) 
To undermine and heare what I would say. 



TITUS ANDROXICUS'S COMPLAINT. 193 

I fed their foolish veines a certaine space, ^ 
Uutill my friendes did find a secret place, 
Where both her sonnes unto a post were bound, 
And just revenge in cruell sort was found. 

I cut their throates, my daughter held the pan 
Betwixt her stumpes, wherein the bloud it ran : 
And then I ground their bones to powder small, 
And made a paste for pyes streight therewithal!. 

Then with their fleshe I made two mighty pyes. 
And at a banquet, served in stately wise. 
Before the empresse set this loathsome meat ; 
So of her sonnes own flesh she well did eat. 

Myselfe bereav'd my daughter then of life, 
The empresse then I slewe with bloudy knife. 
And stabb'd the emperour immediatelie. 
And then myself: even soe did Titus die. 

Then this revenge against the Moore was found ; 
Alive they sett him halfe in the ground. 
Whereas he stood untill such time he starv'd : 
And soe God send all murderers may be serv'd. 

1 i. e. encouraged them in their foolish humours, oi 
fancies. P. 
VOL. vin. 13 



194 JOHN DORY. 



JOHN DORY. 



This ballad, formerly a very great favorite, and 
continually alluded to in works of the 16th and 
1 7th centuries, is found among the " Freemen's Songs 
of three voices" in Deuteromelia, 1609 ; also in Play- 
ford's Musical Companion, 1687, and for one voice in 
Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Purge Melancholy/, vol. i. 
1698 and 1707. It is, however, much older than any 
of these books. 

Carew, in his Survey of Cormcall, 1602, p. 135, 
writes : " Moreover, the prowess of one Nicholas, son 
to a widow near Foy, is descanted upon in an old 
three-man's song, namely, how he fought bravely at 
sea with John Dory, (a Genowey, as I conjecture,) 
set forth by John, the French King, and, after much 
bloodshed on both sides, took, and slew him, in revenge 
of the great ravine and cruelty which he had fore 
committed upon the Englishmen's goods and bodies." 
The only King John that could be meant here is of 
course John II. the Good, (see v. 10,) who was taken 
prisoner at Poitiers, and died in 1364. No John Doria 
is mentioned as being in the service of John the Good. 
— Ritson's Ancient Songs, ii. 57, and Chappell's Pop- 
ular Music, p. 67. 

As it fell on a holy-day. 

And upon 'a' holy-tide-a, 
John Dory bought him an ambling nag, 

To Paris for to ride-a. 



JOHN DORY. 195 

And when John Dory to Paris was come, 

A little before the gate-a, 
John Dory was fitted, the porter was witted, 

To let him in thereat-a. 

The first man that John Dory did meet, 
Was good king John of France-a ; 

John Dory could well of his courtesie, 
But fell downe in a trance-a. 

" A pardon, a pardon, my liege and my king, 

For my merie men and for me-a ; 
And all the churles in merie England, 

Ee bring them all bound to thee-a.'* 

And Nicholl was then a Cornish man, 

A little beside Bohide-a, 
And he mande forth a good blacke barke, 

With fifty good oares on a side-a. 

" Kun up, my boy, unto the maine top. 
And looke what thou canst spie-a : " 

" Who ho ! who ho ! a goodly ship I do see, 
I trow it be John Dory-a." 

They hoist their sailes, both top and top. 
The meisseine and all was tride-a ; 

And every man stood to his lot. 
Whatever should betide-a. 

The roring cannons then were plide, 
And dub-a-dub went the drumme-a ; 

The braying trumpets lowd they cride, 
To courage both all and some-a. 



196 SIR EGLAMORE. 

The grapling-hooks were brouglit at length, 
The brown e bill and the sword-a ; 

John Dory at length, for all his strength, 
Was clapt fast under board-a. 



SIR EGLAMORE. 

Courage Crowned with Conquest: Or, a brief rela- 
tion how that valiant knight and heroick champion. 
Sir Eglamore, bravely fought with, and manfully 
' slew, a terrible huge great monstrous dragon. To 
a pleasant new tune. 

This ballad is found " in Tlie MelanclioUe Knight^ 
by Samuel Rowlands, 1G15 ; in the Antidote to Melan- 
choly, 1061 ; in Merry Drollery Complete, 1661 ; in 
Dryden's Miscellany Poems, iv. 104 ; in the " Bagford 
and Roxburghe collections of Ballads," &c. (Chap- 
pell.) The various editions difler considerably. The 
following is from Ritson's Ancient Songs, (ed. 1790,) 
p. 211, where it was reprinted from a black-letter copy 
dated 1672. 

Sir Eglamore, that valiant knight, 
With his fa, la, lanctre down dilie, 

He fetcht his sword and he went to fight, 
With his fa, la, lanctre, Sfc. 

As he went over hill and dale. 

All cloathed in his coat of male, 
With his fa, la, lanctre, Sfc. 



SIR EGLAMORE. . 197 

A huge great dragon leapt out of his den, 

Which had killed the Lord knows how many men ; 

But when he saw Sir Eglamore, 

Good lack had ye seen how this dragon did roare I 

This dragon he had a plaguy hide, 
Which could both sword and spear abide ; 
He could not enter with hacks and cuts, 
Which vext the knight to the very hearts blood and 
guts. 

All the trees in the wood did shake. 

Stars did tremble, and men did quake ; 

But had ye seen how the birds lay peeping, 

'T would have made a mans heart to fall a-weeping 

But it was too late to fear, 

For now it was come to fight dog, fight bear ; 

And as a yawning he did fall, 

He thrust his sword in, hilt and all. 

But now as the knight in choler did burn, 
He owed the dragon a shrewd good turn : 
In at his mouth his sword he bent, 
The hilt appeared at his fundament. 

Then the dragon, like a coward, began to fly 
Unto his den, that was hard by ; 
And there he laid him down and roar'd; 
The knight was vexed for his sword. 

'' The sword, that was a right good blade, 
As ever Turk or Spaniard made, 



198 . JEPHTHAH, JUDGE OF ISRAEL. 

I for my part do forsake it, 

And he that will fetch it, let him take it.** 

When all this was done, to the eile-house he went, 
And by and by his two pence he spent ; 
For he was so hot with tugging with the dragon, 
That nothing would quench him but a whole flaggon. 

Now God preserve our King and Queen, 
And eke in London may be seen 
As many knights, and as many more, 
And all so good as Sir Eglamore. 



JEPHTHAH, JUDGE OF ISRAEL. 

We have thought it necessary to include in this 
collection one or two specimens of ballads founded 
on stories in the Jewish Scriptures. Besides those 
here selected, it may be well to refer to the following : 
The Constancy of Susanna, (cited in Tiuelfth Nif/ht,) 
Evans, i. 11 ; David and Bnthsheba, id. p. 291 ; Tobias, 
Old Ballads, ii. 158; Holof ernes, The Garland of 
Goodwill, p. 85, and Old Ballads, ii. 166. 

Every one will remember that the ballad of Jeph- 
thah is quoted in Hamlet (Act 11. sc. 2). Percy pub- 
lished an imperfect copy of this piece, written down 
from the recollection of a lady (Reliques, i. 193). The 
following is from a black-letter copy reprinted in 
Evans, i. 7, which was entitled "/ejo/ia. Judge of 
hrael." 



JEPHTHAM, JUDGE OF ISRAEL. 109 

I HAVE read that many yeai-s agoe, 

When Jeph[th]a, judge of Israel, 
Had one fair daughter and no moe, ^ 

Whom he loved passing well. 
And as by lot, God wot, 
It came to passe, most like it was, 
Great warrs there should be. 
And who should be the chiefe but he, but he. 

When Jeph[th]a was appointed now 

Chiefe captain of the company, 
To God the Lord he made a vow. 

If he might have the victory. 
At his return, to burn, 
For his offering, the first quick thing. 
Should meet with him then. 
From his house when he came agen, agen , 

It chanced so these warrs were done, 

And home he came with victory ; 
His daughter out of doors did run 

To meet her father speedily : 
And all the way did play 
To taber and pipe, and many a stripe, 
And notes full high, 
For joy that he was so nigh, so nigh. 

"When Jeph[th]a did perceive and see 

His daughter firm and formostly. 
He rent his cloths, and tore his haire, 

And shrieked out most piteously : 

1 more. 



200 JEPHTHAH, JUDGE OF ISRAEL, 

" For thou art she," quoth he, 

" Hath brought me low — alas, for woe ! 

And troubled me so, 

That I cannot tell what to doe, to doe. 

" For I have made a vow," quoth he, 
Which must not be dhnlnished ; 

A sacrifice to God on high ; 
My promise must be finished." 

" As ye have spoke, provoke 

No further care, but to prepare 

Your will to fulfill, 

According to God's will, God's will. 

" For sithcnce God has given you might 

To overcome your enemies, 
Let one be ofler'd up, as right, 

For to perform all promises. 
And this let be," quoth she, 
" As thou hast said ; be not afraid ; 
Although it be I, 
Keep promise with God on high, on high. 

" But father, do so much for me 

As let me go to wildernesse. 
There to bewaile my virginity, 

Three months to bemoan my heavinesse. 
And let there go some moe. 
Like maids with me." " Content," quoth he, 
And sent her away, 
To mourn till her latter day, her day. 

And when that time was come and gone 
That she should sacrificed be, 



SAMSON. 201 

This virgin sacrificed was, 

For to fulfill all promises. 
As some say, for aye 
The virgins there, three times a year, 
Like sorrow fulfill 
For the daughter of Jeph[th]a still, still, still. 



SMISON. 

Evans's Old Ballads, i. 283, from a black-letter copy. 

When Samson was a tall young man. 
His power and strength increased then, 
And in the host and tribe of Dan 

The Lord did bless him still. 
It chanced so upon a day, 
As he was walking on his way. 
He saw a maiden fresh and gay 

In Timnath. 

With whom he fell so sore in love, 
That he his fancy could not move ; 
His parents therefore he did prove, 

And craved their good wills : 
" I have found out a wife," quoth he ; 
" I pray ye, father, give her me ; 
Though she a stranger's daughter be, 

I pass not." 

Then did bespeak his parents dear, 
" Have we not many maidens here, 



202 SAMSON. 

Of country and acquaintance near, 

For thee to love and like ? " 
" O no/* quoth Samson presently, 
" Not one so pleasant in my eye, 
Whom I could find so faithfully 

To fancy.'* 

At length they granted their consent, 
And so with Samson forth they went ; 
To see the maid was their intent, 

"Which was so fair and bright. 
But as they were a-going there, 
A lion put them in great fear. 
Whom Samson presently did tear 

In pieces. 

AVhen they were come unto the place, 
They were agreed in the case ; 
The wedding day appointed was, 
And when the time was come, 
As Samson went for beauty's fees, 
The lion's carcass there he sees. 
Wherein a sort of honey bees 

Had swarmed. 

Then closely Samson went his way, 
And not a word thereof did say, 
Untill the merry feasting-day. 

Unto the company. 
" A riddle I will shew," quoth he ; 
" The meaning if you tell to me, 
Within seven days I will give ye 

Great riches. 



SAMSON. 203 

"But if the meaning you do miss, 
And cannot shew me what it is, 
Then shall you give to me i-wiss 

So much as I have said," 
" Put forth the riddle then," quoth they, 
" And Ave will tell it by our day, 
Or we will lose, as thou dost say, 

The wager." 

" Then make," quoth he, " the total sum. 

Out of the eater meat did come, 

And from the strong did sweetness run ; 

Declare it, if you can." 
And when they heard the riddle told. 
Their hearts within them waxed cold. 
For none of them could then unfold 

The meaning. 

Then unto Samson's wife went they, 
And threatened her, without delay. 
If she would not the thing bewray. 

To burn her father's house. 
Then Samson's wife, Avith grief and woe. 
Desired him the same to shew. 
And when she knew, she straight did go. 
To tell them. 

Then were they all full glad of this ; 
To tell the thing they did not miss; 
" What stronger beast than a lion is ? 
What sweeter meat than honey ? " 
Then Samson answered them full round. 



204 SAMSON. 

" If my heifer had not ploughed the groundT 
So easily you had not found 

My riddle. 

Then Samson did his losses pay, 
And to his father went his way : 
But while with them he there did stay, 

His wife forsook him quite, 
And took another to her love, 
Which Samson's anger much did move : 
To plague them therefore he did prove 
His cunning. 

A subtle thought he then had found. 
To burn their corn upon the ground ; 
Their vineyards he destroyed round, 
"Which made them fret and fume. 
But when they knew that Samson he 
Had done them all this injury, 
Because his wife did him deny, 

They killed her. 

And afterward they had decreed 

To murder Samson for that deed ; 

Three thousand men they sent with speed, 

To bring him bound to them. 
But he did break his cords apace, 
- And with the jaw-bone of an ass 

A thousand men, ere he did pass. 

He kiUed. 

1 But wisht. 



SAMSON. 205 

When all his foes were laid in dust, 
Then Samson was full sore athirst ; 
In God therefore was all his trust, 

To help his fliinting heart : 
For liquor thereabout was none : 
The Lord therefore from the jaw-bone 
Did make fresh water spring, alone 

To help him. 

Then Samson had a joyfull spright, 
And in a city lay that night, 
Whereas his foes, with deadly spite. 

Did seek his life to spill : 
But he at midnight then awakes. 
And tearing down the city gates, 
With him away the same he takes 

Most stoutly. 

Then on Delilah, fair and bright, 
Did Samson set his whole deli"-ht. 
Whom he did love both day and night. 

Which wrought his overthrow. 
For she with sweet words did entreat. 
That for her sake he would repeat 
Wherein his strength, that was so great, 

Consisted. 

At length, unto his bitter fall, 

And through her suit, which was not small, 

He did not let to show her all 

The secrets of his heart. 
" If that my hair be cut," quoth he. 



206 SAMSON. 

" Which now so fair and long you see, 
Like other men then shall I be 

In weakness." 

Then through deceit which was so deep, 

She lulled Samson fast asleep ; 

A man she call'd, which she did keep, 

To cut off all his hair. 
Then did she call his hateful foes, 
Ere Samson from her lap arose, 
Who could not then withstand their blows, 
For weakness. 

To bind him fast they did devise, 
Then did they put out both his eyes ; 
In prison wofully he lies. 

And there he grinds the mill. 
But God remembered all his pain, 
And did restore his strength again. 
Although that bound he did remain 
In prison. 

The Philistines now were glad of this ; 
For joy they made a feast i-wiss, 
And all their princes did not miss 

To come unto the same. 
And being merry bent that day. 
For Samson they did send straightway 
That they might laugh to see him play 
Among them. 

Then to the house was Samson led. 
And when he had their fancies fed, 



QUEEN DIDO. 207 

He pluck'd the house upon their head, 

And down they tumbled all. 
So that with gnef and deadly pain, 
Three thousand persons there were slain ; 
Thus Samson then, with all his train, 

Was brained. 



QUEEN DIDO, OR, THE WANDERING 
PRINCE OF TROY. 



Percy's Reliques, iii. 240, and Ritson's Ancient Songs and 
Ballads, ii. 101. 



" Such is the title given in the Editor's folio MS. 
to this excellent old ballad, which, in the common 
printed copies, is inscribed, Eneas, wandering Prince 
of Troy. It is here given from that MS. collated 
■with two different printed copies, both in black-letter, 
in the Pepys Collection." Percy. 

As other ballads on classical subjects, may be men- 
tioned Constant Penelope, Reliques, in. 324; Pyramus 
and Thisle, in A Ilandfull of Pleasant Delites, p. 42 
(Park's Heliconia, vol. ii.) ; and Hero and Leander in 
Collier's Boxburghe Ballads, p. 227, from which wag 
formed the song, or ballad, In the Tea-Table Miscel- 
lany, ii. 138, Ritson's Scotish Songs, II. 198, &c. 

When Troy towne had, for ten yeeres ' past,' 
Withstood the Greekes In manfull wise, 



208 QUEEN DIDO, OR, 

Then did their foes encrease soe fast, 
That to resist none could suffice : 
Wast lye those walls, that were soe good, 
And corne now gi-owes where Troy towne stoode. 

-^neas, wandering prince of Troy, 

When he for land long time had sought. 
At length arnving with great joy, 

To mighty Carthage walls was brought ; 
Where Dido queene, with sumptuous feast, 



And, as in hall at meate they sate. 

The queene, desirous newes to heare, 
Says, " Of thy Troys unhappy fate. 
Declare to me, thou Trojan deare : 
The heavy hap and chance soe bad. 
That thou, poore wandering prince, hast had." 

And then anon this comelye knight, 

With words demure, as he cold well. 
Of his unhappy ten yeares ' fight,' 
Soe true a tale began to tell, 
With wordes soe sweete, and sighes soe deepe, 
That oft he made them all to weepe. 

And then a thousand sighes he fet, 

And every sigh brought teares amaine ; 
That where he sate the place was wett. 

As though he had scene those warrs againe 
Soe that the queene, with ruth therfore, 
Said, " Worthy prince, enough, no more.'* 
1, 21. war. MS. and pr. cop. 



THE WANDERING PRINCE OF TROY. 209 

And then the darksome night drew on, 

And twinkling starres the skye bespred, 
When he his dolefuU tale had done, 
And every one was layd in bedd: 
Where they full sweetly tooke their rest, 
Save only Dido's boy ling brest. 

This silly woman never slept, 

But in her chamber, all alone. 
As one un happy e, alwayes wept, 

And to the walls shee made her mono ; 
That she shold still desire in vaine 
The thing she never must obtalne. 

And thus in griefTe she spent the night. 

Till twinkling starres the skye were lied, 
And Phoebus, with his glistering light, 
Through misty cloudes appeared red ; 
Then tidings came to her anon, 
That all the Trojan shipps were gone. 

And then the queene with bloody knife 
Did .arme, her hart as hard as stone ; 
Yet, something loth to loose her life, 
In woefull wise she made her mone ; 
And, rowling on her carefull bed, 
With sighes and sobbes, these words shee sayd : 

" O wretched Dido queene ! " quoth shee, 
"1 see thy end approacheth neare ; 

For hee is tied away from thee. 

Whom thou didst love and hold so deare : 

VOL. VIII. 14 



210 QUEEN DIDO, OR, 

What, is he gone, and passed by ? 
O hart, prepare thyselfe to dye. 

" Though reason says thou shouldst forbeare. 

And stay thy hand from bloudy stroke, 
Yet fancy bids thee not to fear, 

AVhich fetter'd thee in Cupids yoke. 
Come death," quoth shee, " resolve my smart ! ** — 
And with those words shee peerced her hart. 

When death had pierced the tender hart 

Of Dido, Carthaginian queene, 
Whose bloudy knife did end the smart, 
Which shee sustain'd in mournfull teene, 
^neas being shipt and gone, 
Whose flattery caused all her mone, 

Her funerall most costly made. 

And all things finisht mournfullye, 
Her body fine in mold was laid, 
Where itt consumed speedilye : 
Her sisters teares her tombe bestrewde, 
Her subjects griefe their kindnesse shewed. 

Then was ^neas in an ile 

,In Grecya, where he stayd long space, 
Whereas her sister in short while 
Writt to him to his vile disgrace ; 
In speeches bitter to his mind 
Shee told hun plaine he was unkind. 

" False-harted wretch," quoth shee, " thou art ; 
And traiterouslve thou hast betraid 



THE WA-XDERrVG PKINCE OF TKOY. 211 

Unto thy lure a gentle hart, 

Which unto thee much welcome made; 
My sister deare, and Carthage' joy, 
Whose folly bred her deere annoy. 

" Yett on her death-bed Avhen shee lay, 

Shee prayd for thy prosperitye, 
Beseeching God, that every day 
Might breed thy great felicitye : 
Thus by thy meanes I lost a friend ; 
Heaven send thee such untimely end." 

When he these lines, full fraught with gall, 

Perused had, and waved them right, 
His lofty courage then did fall ; 
And straight appeared in his sight 
Queene Dido's ghost, both grim and pale ; 
Which made this valliant souldier quaile. 

" ^neas," quoth this ghastly ghost, 

" My whole delight, when I did live, 
Thee of all men I loved most ; 
My fancy and my will did give ; 
For entertainment I thee gave, 
Unthankefully thou didst me grave. 

"Therfore prepare thy flitting soule 

To wander with me in the aire. 
Where deadlye griefe shall make it howle, 
Because of me thou tookst no care ; 
Delay not time, thy glasse is run, 
Thy date is past, thy life is done.'* 



212 QUEEN DIDO. 

" O stay a while, thou lovely sprite ; 

Be not soe hasty to convay 
My soule into eternall night, 

"Where itt shall ne're behold bright day ; 
O doe not frowne ; thy angry looke 
Hath made my breath my life foi-sooke. 

" But, woe is me ! all is in vaine, 

. And bootless is my dismall crye ; 
Time will not be recalled againe, 
Nor thou surcease before I dye. 

lett me live, and make amends 
To some of thy most dearest friends. 

" But seeing thou obdurate art, 
And wilt no pittye on me show, 

Because from thee I did depart, 
And left unpaid what I did owe, 

1 must content myselfe to take 
What lott to me thou wilt partake.** 

And thus, as one being in a trance, 

A multitude of uglye feinds 
About this wofTull prince did dance : 
He had no helpe of any friends : 
His body then they tooke away, 
And no man knew his dying day. 



GEORGE BARNWELL. 213 



GEORGE BARNWELL. 

Percy's Eeliques, iii. 297. 

" The subject of this ballad is sufficiently popular 
from the modern play which is founded upon it. Tliis 
was written by George Lillo, a jeweller of London, 
and first acted about 1730. — As for the ballad, it was 
printed at least as early as the middle of the last cen- 
tury. 

"It is here given from three old printed copies, 
which exhibit a strange intermixture of Roman and 
black-letter. It is also collated with another copy in 
the Ashmole Collection at Oxford, which is thus en- 
titled : " A7i excellent ballad of George Barnwell, an 
apprentice of London, who . . . thrice robbed his mas- 
ter, and murdered his uncle in Ludlow. The tune is 
The Merchant" 

There is another copy in Ritson's Ancient Songs, 
ii. 156. Throughout the Second Part, the first line 
of each stanza has, in the old editions, two superfluous 
syllables, which Percy ejected ; and Ritson has adopted 
the emendation. 

THE FIRST PART. 



All youths of fair England 
That dwell both far and near, 

Regard my story that I tell, 
And to my song give ear. 



214 GEORGE BARNWELL. 

A London lad I was, 

A merchant's prentice bound ; 

My name George Barnwell ; that did spend 
My master many a pound. 

Take heed of harlots then, 

And their enticing trains ; 
For by that means I have been brought 

To hang alive in chains. 

As I upon a day 

Was walking through the street, 
About my master's business, 

A wanton I did meet. 

A gallant dainty dame 

And sumptuous in attire ; 
With smiling look she greeted me, 

And did my name require. 

Which when I had declar'd. 

She gave me then a kiss, 
And said, if I would come to her 

I should have more than this. 

"Fair mistress," then quoth I, 

" If I the place may know. 
This evening I will be with you ; 

For I abroad must go, 

" To gather monies in, 

That are my master's due : 
And ere that I do home return 

I'll come and visit you." 



GEORGE BARNWELL. 215 

*' Good Barnwell," then quoth she, 

" Do thou to Shoreditch come, 
And ask for Mrs. Milwood's house, 

Next door unto the Gun. 

" And trust me on my truth, 

If thou keep touch with me. 
My dearest friend, as my own heart 

Thou shalt right welcome be.'* 

Thus parted we in peace. 

And home I passed right ; 
Then went abroad, and gathered in, 

By six o'clock at night, 

An hundred pound and one : 

"With bag under my arm 
I went to Mrs. Millwood's house, 

And thought on httle harm. 

And knocking at the door, 

Straightway herself came down ; 
Rustling in most brave attire. 

With hood and silken gOAvn. 

Who, through her beauty bright. 

So gloriously did shine, 
That she amaz'd my dazzling eyes, 

She seemed so divine. 

She took me by the hand. 

And with a modest grace, 
" "Welcome, sweet Barnwell," then quoth she, 

" Unto this homely place. 



216 GEORGE BARNWELL. 

" And since I have thee found 
As good as thy word to be, 

A homely supper, ere we part, 
Thou sluilt take here with me." 

" O pardon me," quoth I, 
" Fair mistress, I you pray ; 

For why, out of my master's house 
So long I dare not stay." 

" Alas, good sir," she said, 
" Are you so strictly ty'd. 

You may not with your dearest friend 
One hour or two abide ? 

" Faith, then the case is hard ; 

If it be so," quoth she, 
"I would I were a prentice bound, 

To live along with thee. 

" Therefore, my dearest George, 
List well what I shall say, 

And do not blame a woman much, 
Her fancy to bewray. 

'• Let not afTection's force 

Be counted lewd desire ; 
Nor think it not immodesty, 

I should thy love require." 

With that she turn'd aside, 

And with a blushing red, 
A mournful motion she bewray*d 

By hanging down her head. 



GEORGE BARNWELL. 217 

A handkerchief she had, 

All wrought with silk and gold, 
Which she, to stay her trickling tears, 

Before her eyes did hold. 

This thing unto my sight 

Was wondrous rare and strange, 
And in my soul and inward thought 

It wrought a sudden change : 

That 1 so hardy grew 

To take her by the hand. 
Saying, " Sweet mistress, why do you 

So dull and pensive stand ? " 

" Call me no mistress now, 

But Sarah, thy true friend. 
Thy servant, Milwood, honouring thee, 

Until her life hath end. 

" If thou wouldst here alledge 

Thou art in years a boy ; 
So was Adonis, yet was he 

Fair Venus' only joy." 

Thus I, who ne'er before 

Of woman found such grace, 
But seeing now so fair a dame 

Give me a kind embrace, 

I supt with her that night, 

With joys that did abound ; 
And for the same paid presently, 

In mony twice three pound. 



218 GEORGE BARNWELL. 

An hundred kisses then, 

For my farewel she gave ; 
Crying, " Sweet Barnwell, when shall I 

Again thy company have ? 

" O stay not hence too long ; 

Sweet George, have me in mind : ** 
Her words bewicht my childishness, 

She uttered them so kind. 

So that I made a vow, 

Next Sunday, without fail, 
With my sweet Sarah once again 

To tell some pleasant tale. 

"When she heard me say so, 

The tears fell from her eye ; 
" O George," quoth she, " if thou dost fail» 

Thy Sarah sure will dye." 

Though long, yet loe ! at last. 

The appointed day was come, 
That I must with my Sarah meet ; 

Having a mighty sum ^ 

Of money in my hand, 

Unto her house went I, 
"Whereas my love upon her bed 

In saddest sort did lye. 

1 The having a sum of money with him on Sunday, 
&c., shows this narrative to have been penned before the 
civil wars: the strict observance of the Sabbath wag owing 
to the change of manners at that ceriod. Pekcy. 



GEORGE BARNWELL. 219 

"'What ails my heart's delight, 

My Sarah dear ? " quoth I ; 
" Let not my love lament and grieve, 

Nor sighing pine and die. 

" But tell me, dearest friend, 

What may thy woes amend, 
And thou shalt lack no means of help, 

Though forty pound I spend." 

With that she turn'd her head, 

And sickly thus did say : 
" Oh me, sweet George, my grief is great \ 

Ten pound I have to pay 

Unto a cruel wretch ; 

And God he knows," quoth she, 
" I have it not." " Tush, rise," I said, 

" And take it here of me. 

" Ten pounds, nor ten times ten. 

Shall make my love decay ; " 
Then from my bag into her lap, 

I cast ten pound straightway. 

All blithe and pleasant then. 

To banqueting we go ; 
She proffered me to lye with her, 

And said it should be so. 

And after that same time, 

I gave her store of coyn, 
Yea, sometimes fifty pound at once ; 

All which I did purloyn. 



220 GEORGE BARNWELL. 

And thus I did pass on ; 

Until my master then 
Did call to have his reckoning in 

Cast up among his men. 

The which when as I heard, 
I knew not what to say : 

For well I knew that I was out 
Two hundred pound that day. 

Then from my master straight 

I ran in secret sort ; 
And unto Sarah Milwood there 

My case I did report. 

But how she used this youths 
In this his care and woe^ 

And all a strumpeCs wiley waySj 
The second part may showe. 

THE SECOND PART. 

" Young Barnwell comes to thee, 
Sweet Sarah, my delight ; 

I am undone, unless thou stand 
My faithful friend tliis night. 

" Our master to accompts 
Ilath just occasion found; 

And I am caught behind the hand 
Above two hundred pound. 

** And now his wrath to 'scape, 
My love, I fly to thee, 



GEt)KGE BARNWELL. 221 

Hoping some time I may remaine 
In safety here with thee." 

With that she knit her brows, 

And looking all aquoy, 
Quoth she, " What should I have to do 

With any prentice boy 



"? 



** And seeing you have purloyn*d 
Your master's goods away, 

The case is bad, and therefore here 
You shall no longer stay." 

" Why, dear, thou know'st," I said, 
" How all which I could get, 

" I gave it, and did spend It all 
Upon thee every whit." 

Quoth she, " Thou art a knave, 
To charge me in this sort, 

Being a woman of credit fair, 
And known of good report. 

" Therefore I tell thee flat. 
Be packing with good speed ; 

I do defie thee from my heart, 
And scorn thy filthy deed." 

" Is this the friendship, that 

You did to me protest ? 
Is this the great affection, which 

You so to me exprest ? 



£22 GEORGE BARNWELL. 

" Now fie on subtle slirews ! 

The best is, I may speed 
To get a lodging any where 

For money in my need. 

" False woman, now farewell ; 

Whilst twenty pound doth last, 
My anchor in some other haven 

With freedom I will cast." 

When she perceiv'd by this, 

I had store of money there, 
" Stay, Georofe," quoth she, " thou art too quick ; 

Why, man, I did but jeer. 

" Dost think for all my speech, 

That I would let thee go ? 
Faith, no," said she, " my love to thee 

I-wiss is more than so." 

*' You scorne a prentice boy, 

I heard you just now swear : 
Wherefore I will not trouble you : ** 

" Nay, George, hark in thine ear; 

' " Thou shalt not go to-night, 
What chance soe're befall ; 
But man, we'll have a bed for thee, 
Or else the devil take all." 

So I by wiles bewitcht, 

And snar'd with fancy still, 
Had then no power to ' get ' away, 

Or to withstand her wilL 



GEORGE BARNWELL. 223 

For -wine on wine I call'd, 

And cheer upon good cheer; 
And nothing in the world I thought 

For Sarah's love too dear. 

Whilst in her company, 

I had such merriment, 
All, all too little I did think, 

That I upon her spent. 

" A fig for care and thought ! 

When all my gold is gone. 
In faith, my girl, we will have more, 

Whoever I light upon. 

" My father's rich ; why then 

Should I want store of gold ? " 
" Nay, with a father, sure," quoth she, 

" A son may well make bold." 

" I've a sister richly wed ; 

I'll rob her ere I'll want." 
" Nay then," quoth Sarah, " they may well 

Consider of your scant." 

" Nay, I an uncle have ; 

At Ludlow he doth dwell ; 
He is a grazier, which in wealth 

Doth all the rest excell. 

" Ere I will live in lack. 

And have no coyn for thee, 
I'll rob his house, and murder him." 

" Why should you not ? " quoth she. 



224 GEORGE BARNWELL. 

" Was I a man, ere I 

Would live in poor estate, 

On father, friends, and all my kin, 
I would my talons grate. 

" For without money, George, 

A man is but a beast : 
But bringing money, thou shalt be 

Always my welcome guest. 

" For shouldst thou be pursued 
With twenty hues and cryes, 

And with a warrant searched for 
With Argus' hundred eyes, 

" Yet here thou shalt be safe ; 

Such privy wayes there be, 
That if they sought an hundred years, 

They could not find out thee." 

And so carousing both 

Their pleasures to content, 

George Barnwell had in little space 
His money wholly spent. 

Which done, to Ludlow straight 

He did provide to go. 
To rob his wealthy uncle there ; 
His minion would it so. 

And once he thought to take 
His father by tho way. 



p 



GEORGE BARNWELL. 225 

But that he fear'd his master had 
Took order for his stay, i 

Unto his uncle then 

He rode with might and main, 
Who with a welcome and good cheer 

Did Barnwell entertain. 

One fortnight's space he stayed, 

Until it chanced so, 
His uncle with his cattle did 

Unto a market go. 

His kinsman rode with him, 

Where he did see right plain. 
Great store of money he had took : 

When, coming home again, 

Sudden within a wood, 

He struck his uncle down. 
And beat his brains out of his head ; 

So sore he crackt his crown. 

Then seizing fourscore pound. 

To London straight he hyed, 
And unto Sarah Millwood all 

The cruell fact descryed. 

" Tush, 'tis no matter, George, 
So we the money have 

1 i. e. for stopping and apprehending hun at hi 3 father's. 
VOL. vin. 15 



226 GEORGE BARNWELL. 

To have good clieer in jolly sort, 
And deck us fine and brave." 

Thus lived in filthy sort, 
Until their store was gone : 

When means to get them any more, 
I-wis poor George had none. 

Therefore in railing sort, 
She thrust him out of door ; 

Which is the just reward of those, 
Who spend upon a whore. 

*' O do me not disgrace 

In this my need," quoth he : 

She called him thief and murderer, 
With all the spight might be. 

To the constable she sent. 
To have him apprehended ; 

And shewed how far, in each degree, 
He had the laws offended. 

When Barnwell saw her drift, 
To sea he got straightway; 

Where fear and sting of conscicneo 
Continually on him lay. 

Unto the lord mayor then. 

He did a letter write, 
In which his own and Sarah's fault 

He did at lar^e recite. 



GEORGE BARNWELL. 227 

Whereby she seized was, 

And then to Ludlow sent. 
Where she was judg'd, condemn'd, and hang*d, 

For murder incontinent. 

There dyed this gallant quean, 

Such was her greatest gains; 
For murder in Polonia, 

Was Barnwell hang'd in chains. 

Lo ! here's the end of youth 

That after harlots haunt, 
Who in the spoil of other men 

About the streets do flaunL 



228 THE DUKE OF ATHOL's NURSE. 



THE DUKE OF ATIIOL'S NURSE. 

From Buohan's Ballads of the North of Scotland^ ii. 
23. Annexed is a less perfect copy from Kinloch's col- 
lection. A fragment of this piece is printed in Cro- 
meks Select Scottish Soncjshj R. Burns^ (ii. 196,) with 
Bome stanzas of Willfs droioned in Yarrow^ (vol. ii. p. 
181, of this collection.) Mr. Aytoun has made up a 
very good ballad from several copies ; Ballads of ScoU 
land, 2, 236. 

As I gaed in yon greenwood side, 

I heard a fair maid singing ; 
Her voice was sweet, she sang sae complete, 

That all the woods were ringing. 

" O I'm the Duke o' Athole's nurse, 

My post is well becoming ; 
But I wou'd gie a' my half-year's fee, 

For ae sight o' my leman.'* 

" Ye say, ye're the Duke o' Athole's nurse, 

Your post is well becoming ; 
Keep well, keep well your half-year's fee, 

Ye'se hae twa sights o' your leman." 

He lean'd him ower his saddle bow. 

And cannilie kiss'd his dearie ; 
" Ohon, and alake ! anither has my heart, 

And I darena mair.come near thee 1** 

" Ohon, and alake ! if anither hae your heart, 
These words hae fairly undone me ; 



THE DVKE OF ATHOl's NURSE. 229 

But let us set a time, tryst to meet again, 
Then in gude friends you will twine me 1 " 

" Ye will do you down to yon tavern house, 

And drink till the day be dawing ; 
And, as sure as I ance had a love for you, 

I'll come there and clear your lawing. 

" Ye'll spare not the wine, altho' it be fine, 

Nae Mai ago, tho' it be rarely ; 
But ye'll aye drink the bonnie lassie's health 

That's to clear your lawing fairly." 

Then he's done him down to yon tavern house, 

And drank till day was dawing ; 
And aye he drank the bonny lassie's health 

That was coming to clear his lawing. 

And aye as he birled, and aye as he drank 

The gude beer and the brandy, 
He spar'd not the wine, altho' it was fine, 

The sack nor the sugar candy. 

" It's a wonder to me," the knight he did say, 

" My bonnie lassie's sae delaying ; 
She promis'd, as sure as she loved me ance. 

She wou'd be here by the dawing." 

He's done him to a shott window, 

A little before the dawing, 
And there he spied her nine brothers bauld, 

Were coming to betray him. 



230 THE DUKE OF ATHOl's NURSE. 

" Where shall I rin, where shall I gang, 

Or where shall I gang hide me ? 
She that was to meet me in friendship this day, 

Has sent nine men to slay me ! " 

He's gane to the landlady o' the house, 

Says, " O can you supply me ? 
For she that was to meet me in friendship this day, 

Has sent nine men to slay me ! 

She gae him a suit o' her ain female claise, 

And set him to the baking ; 
The bird never sang mair sweet on the bush, 

Nor the knight sung at the baking. 

As they came in at the ha' door, 

Sae loudly as they rappit. 
And when they came upon the floor, 

Sae loudly as they chappit ! 

" O had ye a stranger here last night, 
Who drank till the day was dawing ? 

Come, show us the chamber where he lyes in. 
We'll shortly clear his lawing," 

" I had nae stranger here last night. 
That drank till the day was dawing ; 

But ane that took a pint, and paid it ere he went, 
And there's naething to clear o' his lawinir." 

A lad amang the rest, being o' a merry mood. 

To the young knight fell a-talking ; 
The wife took her foot, and gae him a kick. 

Says, " Be busy, ye jilt, at your baking." 



TUE DUKE OF ATHOl's NOURICE. 231 

They stabbed the house, baith but and ben, 
The curtains they spared nae riving, 

And for a* that they did search and ca', 
For a kiss o' the knight they were striving. 



THE DUKE OF ATHOL'S NOURICE. 
Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 127. 

As I cam in by Athol's yetts, 

I heard a fair maid singing ; 
" I am the Duke o' Athol's nourice, 

And I wat it weel does set me ; 
And I wad gie a' my half-year's fee, 

For ae sicht o' my Johnie." 

" Keep weel, keep weel, your half-year's fee, 
For ye'll soon get a sicht o' your Johnie ; 

But anither woman has my heart, 
And I am sorry for to leave ye.'* 

" Ye'll dow ye doun to yon change-house, 
And drink till the day be dawing ; 

At ilka pint's end ye'll drink the lass' health. 
That's coming to pay the lawing." 

He hied him doun to yon change-house. 
And he drank till the day was dawing ; 

And at ilka pint's end he drank the lass' health, 
That was coming to pay for his lawing. 



232 THE DUKE OF ATHOL's NOURICE. 

Aye he ranted, and aye he sang, 
And drank till, the day was dawing ; 

And aye he drank the bonnle lass' health, 
That was coming to pay the lawing. 

He spared na the sack, though It was dear. 

The wine, nor the sugar-candy ; 
* * * * 

« « « 

He has dune him to the shot-window, 

To see gin she war coming; 
There he saw the duke and a' his merry men, 

That oure the hill cam rinning. 

He has dune him to the landlady. 

To see gin she wad protect him ; 
She buskit him up into woman's clalse. 

And set him till a baking. 

Sae loudlie as they rappit at the yett, 

Sae loudlie as they war calling ; 
" Had ye a young man here yestreen, 

That drank till the day was dawing ? " 

" He drank but ae pint, and ne paid it or he went, 
And ye've na mair to do wi' the lawin"-." 

They searchit the house a* round and round, 
And they spared na the curtains to tear them ; 

While the landlady stood upo' the stair-head. 
Crying, " Maid, be busy at your baking ; " 

They gaed as they cam, and left a' undone, 
And left the bonnie maid at her bakinir. 



THE niREMAN CHIEL. 233 



THE niREMAN CmEL. 

From Scarce Ancient Ballads, p. 1 7. The same in 
Buchan, ii. 109, llie Baron turned Ploughman. 

There was a knight, a barone bright, 

A bauld barone was he, 
And he had only but one son, 

A comely youth to see. 

He's brought him at schools nine. 

So has he at schools ten. 
But the boy learn 'd to baud the plow 

Among his father's men. 

But it fell ance upon a day 

The bauld barone did say, 
" My son you maun gae court a wife, 

And ane o high degree. 

" Ye have lands, woods, rents, and bouirs, 

Castels and touirs three ; 
Then go my son and seek some dame 

To share that gift wi' thee." 

" Yes, I have lands and woods, father, 

Castels and touirs three ; 
But what if she like my lands and rents 

Far more than she loves me ? 



234 THE HIREMAN CHIEL. 

" But I will go and seek a -vvife 
That weel can please mine ee, 

And I sail fairly try her love 
Before she gang wi me." 

He then took off the scarlet coat, 

Bedeck'd wi shinin' gold, 
And has put on the hireman's coat, 

To keip him frae the cold. 

He then laid past the studded sword. 
That he could bravely draw. 

And he's gone skipping down the stair, 
Swift as the bird that flaw. 

He took a stick into his hand. 
Which he could bravely wiel. 

And he's gane whistling o'er the Ian*, 
Like a young hireman chiel. 

And^ he gaed up yon high high hill, 

And low down i the glen. 
And there he saw a gay castell, 

Wi turrets nine or ten. 

And he has gone on, and farther on, 

Till to the yett drew he. 
And there he saw a lady fair. 

That pleas'd the young man's ee. 

He went streight to tlie greave's chamber. 
And with humilitie, 

1 As. 



THE HIREMAN CHIEL. 235 

Said, " Have ye any kind of work 
For a hireman chiel like me ? " 

"What is the work that ye intend, 

Or how can we agree ? 
Can ye plow, reap, and sow the com, 

And a' for meat and fee ? " 

" Yes, I can plow, and reap, and mow, 

And sow the corn too ; 
I can weel manage horse and cow, 

And a' for meat and fee." 

" If ye can haud the plow right weel. 

And sow the corn too, 
By faith and troth, my hireman chiel. 

We shall not part for fee." 

H6['s] put his hand in his pocket. 

And taen out shillings nine ; 
Says, " Take ye that, my hireman chiel, 

And turn in here and dine." 

He acted all he took in hand, 

His master lov'd him weel, 
And the young lady of the land 

Fell in love wi the hireman chiel. 

How oft she tried to drown the flame, 

And oft wept bitterlie ; 
But still she lov'd the hireman chiel. 

So well's he pleas'd her ee. 



23 fi THE HTRKMAN CHTEL. 

She has written a broad letter, 

And seal'd it wi' her hand. 
And dropt it at the stable door, 

Where the young man did stand. 

" I am in love, my hireman chiel, 

I'm deip in love wi thee ; 
And if ye think me worth your love, 

r the garden green meet me." 

When he had read the letter o'er, 

A loud loud laugh gae he ; 
Said, " If I manage my business well, 

I'm sure to get my fee." 

At night they met behind a tree, 

Low in the garden green. 
To tell their tale among the flowers, 

And view the e'ening scene. 

Next morning by the rising sun. 

She, with her maries fair, 
Walk'd to the fields to see the plow, 

And meet the hireman there. 

'" Good mom, good morn, my lady gay, 

I wonder much at you, 
To rise so early in the morn, 

While fields are wet wi dew. 
To hear the linnets on the thorn. 

And see the plow-boy plow." 

^ But I wonder much at you, young man, 
I wonder much at you, 



THE HIREMAN CHIEL. 237 

That ye no other station have 
Than hold my father's plow." 

" I love as weel to rise each mom 

As ye can your maries fair ; 
I love as weel to hold the plow 

As I were your father's heir. 

♦' If ye love me, as ye protest, 

And I trust weel ye do, 
The mom's night at eight o'clock, 

In gude green wood meet me.'* 

" Yes, I love you, my hireman chiel, 

And that most tenderlie. 
But when my virgin honor's gone, 

I soon will slighted be." 

" Take ye no dread, my lady gay, 

Lat a your folly be ; 
If ye com a maiden to green wood. 

You'll return the same for me.** 

The lady she went home again 

Wi a mary on every hand ; 
She was so very sick in love, 

She could not sit nor stand. 

It was a dark and cloudy night, 

No stai-s beam'd o'er the lea. 
When the lady and the hireman met 

Beneath a spreading tree. 



238 THE HIREMAN CHIEL. 

He took the lady in his arms, 

Embraced her tenderlie, 
And thrice he kiss'd her rosy lips 

Under the green wood tree. 

" Hold off your hands, young man, I pray 

I wonder much at thee ; 
The man that holds my father's plow, ' 

To lay his hands on me." 

"No harm I mean, my winsome dame, 

No impudence at a' ; 
I never laid a hand on you 

Till your libertie I saw." 

"It is a dark and dismal night, 

The dew is falling down ; 
I will go home, least I should spoil 

My cap and satin gown." 

" If you are wearied so soon. 
Why did ye tryst me here ? " 

" I would not weary wdth you, my dear, 
Tho this night were a year." 

When morning beams began to peep 

Among the branches green, 
The lovers rose, and part to meet, 

And tell their tale again. 

" Ye will go home unto the plow, 

AVhere often ye hae been ; 
I'll tak my mantle folded up, 

And walk i the garden green. 



THE nmElMAN CHIEL. 239 

" The barone and my mother dear 

Will -wonder what I mean ; 
They'll think I've been disturbed sair, 

When I am up so soon." 

But this pass'd on, and farther on, 

For two months and a day, 
Till word came to the bauld barone. 

And an angry man was he. 

The barone swore a solemn oath, 

An angry man was he, 
<' The morn, before I eat or drink. 

High hanged shall he be." 

" Farewell, my lovely maiden fair, 

A long adieu to thee ; 
Your father's sworn a solemn swear 

That hanged I shall be." 

" O woe's me," the lady said, 

" Yet do not troubled be ; 
If e'er they touch the hair on thy head, 

They'll get no good of me." 

He turn'd him right and round about. 

And a loud loud laugh gae he ; 
" That man stood never in the court 

That dare this day hang me." 

The lady spake from her bouir door, 

An angry woman was she; 
" What insolence in you to tryst 

Her to the jrreen wood tree." 



240 THE HIRE3IAN CHIEL. 

" If she had not given her consent, 

She had not gone wi me ; 
If she came a maiden to green wood, 

She return'd again for me." 

He turn'd him right and round about. 
And a loud loud laugh gae he ; 

" Ye may wed your daughter whan ye will, 
She's none the worse for me." 

He has gone whistling o'er the knowe, 

Swift as the bird that flaw ; 
The lady stood in her bouir door, 

And lout the salt tears fa. 

But this pass'd on, and further on, 

A twelve month and a day, 
Till there came a knight and a barone bright 

To woo this lady gay. 

He soon gain'd the baronne's will, 

Likewise the mother gay ; 
He woo'd and won the lady's love, 

But by a slow degree. 

" O weel befa' you, daughter dear. 
And happy may ye be, ^ 

To lay your love on the grand knight. 
And let the hireman be." 

" O hand your tongue, my father dear, 

And speak not so to me ; 
Far more I love the hireman chiel 

Than a' the knights I see." 



THE HIREMAN CHIEL. 241 

The morn was come, and bells were rung, 

And all to church repair ; 
But like the rose among the throng 

Was the lady and her maiies fair. 

But as they walked o'er the field, 

Among the flowers fair, 
Beneath a tree stood on the plain, 

The hireman chiel was there. 

" I wish you joy, my gay madam, 

And aye well may ye be ; 
There is a ring, a pledge of love. 

That ance I got from thee." 

" O wae befa' ye, you hireman chiel, 

Some ill death may ye die ; 
Ye might hae tauld to me your name, 

Your hame, or what countrie." 

" If ye luve me, my lady gay, 

As ye protest ye do. 
Then turn your love from this gay knight, 

And reach your hand to me." 

Then out spake the gay baronne, 

And an angry man was he ; 
" If I had known she was belov'd, 

She had never been lov'd by me.'* 

When she was set on high horse-back, 
And riding thro' the glen, 
VOL. VIII. 16 



242 THE HTREMAN CHIEL. 

They saw her father posting quick, 
With fifty armed men. 

" Do for yourself, my hireman lad, 

And for your safety flee ; 
My father he will take me back, 

But married I'll never be." 

When they were up yon rising hill, 

There low down i' the glen, 
He saw his father's gilded coach, 

Wi' five hundred gentlemen. 

" Come back, turn back, my hireman chiel, 
Turn back and speak wi' me ; 

Ye've serv'd me lang for the lady's sake, 
Come back, and get your fee." 

" Your blessing give us instantly, 

Is all we crave o' thee ; 
These seven years I've serv'd for her sake. 

But now I'm paid my fee.** 



ARMSTRONG AND MUSGRAVE. 243 



ARMSTRONG AND MUSGRAVE. 

From A Collection of Old Ballads, i. 175. 

TuE story of this ballad seems to be the same as 
that of Lord Livingston, in the third volume of this 
collection (p. 343). The whole title is as follows: 

A pleasant ballad shewing how two valiant knights, 
Sir John Armstrong and Sir Michael Musgrave, fell 
in love with the beautiful daughter of the Lady 
Dacres in the North ; and of the great strife that 
happen'd between them for her, and how they 
wrought the death of one hundred men. 

As it fell out one Whitsunday, 

The blith time of the year, 
When every tree was clad with green, 

And pretty birds sing clear. 
The Lady Dacres took her way 
Unto the church that pleasant day, 
With her fair daughter fresh and gay, 

A bright and bonny lass. 

Sir Michael Musgrave, in like sort, 

To church repaired then, 
And so did Sir John Armstrong too. 

With all his merry men. 
Two greater friends there could not be. 
Nor braver knights for chivalry. 



244 ARMSTRONG AND MUSGRA7E. 

Both batchelors of high degree, 
Fit for a bonny lass. 

They sat them down upon one seat, 

Like loving brethren dear, 
AVith hearts and minds devoutly bent 

God's service for to hear ; 
But rising from their prayers tho. 
Their eyes a ranging strait did go, 
Which wrought their utter overthrow, 

All for one bonny lass. 

Quoth Musgrave unto Armstrong then, 

" Yon sits the sweetest dame. 
That ever for her fair beauty 

Within this country came." 
" In sooth," quoth Armstrong presently, 
" Your judgment I must verify, 
There never came unto my eye 

A braver bonny lass." 

" I swear," said Musgrave, " by this sward, 

Which did my knighthood win, 
To steal aAvay so sweet a dame, 

Could be no ghostly sin." 
" That deed," quoth Armstrong, " would be ill. 
Except you had her right good will, 
That your desire she would fulfil, 

And be thy bonny lass." 

By this the service quite was done. 

And home the people past; 
They wish'd a blister on his tongue 

That made thereof such haste. 



ARMSTRONG AND MUSGRAVE. 245 

At the cliurch door the knights did meet, 
The Lady Dacres for to greet, 
But most of all her daughter sweet, 
That beauteous bonny lass. 

Said Armstrong to the lady fair, 

" We both have made a vow 
At dinner for to be your guests. 

If you will it allow." 
AVith that bespoke the lady free, 
" Sir knights, right welcome shall you be ; ** 
*' The happier men therefore are we, 

For love of this bonny lass." 

Thus were the knights both prick'd in love, 

Both in one moment thrall'd, 
And both with one fair lady gay. 

Fair Isabella call'd. 
With humble thanks they went away, 
Like wounded harts chas'd all the day, 
One would not to the other say. 

They lov'd this bonny lass. 

Fair Isabel, on the other side, 

As far in love was found ; 
So long brave Armstrong she had ey'd, 

Till love her heart did wound ; 
" Brave Armstrong is my joy," quoth she, 
" Would Christ he were alone with me, 
To talk an hour, two, or three, 

With his fair bonny lass." 

But as these knights together rode, 
And homeward did repair, 



246 ARMSTRONG AND MUS GRAVE. 

Their talk and eke their countenance shew'd 

Their hearts were clogg'd with care. 
" Fair Isabel," the one did say, 
" Thou hast subdu'd my heart this day ; " 
" But she's my joy," did Musgrave say, 
" My bright and bonny lass." 

With that these friends incontinent 

Became most deadly foes ; 
For love of beauteous Isabel, 

Great strife betwixt them rose : 
Quoth Armstrong, " She shall be my wife, 
Although for her I lose my life ; " 
And thus began a deadly strife, 

And for one bonny lass. 

Thus two years long this grudge did grow 
These gallant knights between. 

While they a- wooing both did go. 
Unto this beauteous queen ; 

And she who did their furies prove. 

To neither would bewray her love. 

The deadly quarrel to remove 
About this bonny lass. 

But neither, for her fair intreats. 

Nor yet her sharp dispute, 
Would they appease their raging ire, 

Nor yet give o'er their suit. 
The gentlemen of the North Country 
At last did make this good decree, 
All for a perfect unity 

About this bonny lass. 



ARMSTRONG AND MUSGRAVE. 217 

The love-sick knights should be set 

Within one hall so wide, 
Each of them in a gallant sort 

Even at a several tide ; 
And 'twixt them both for certainty- 
Fair Isabel should placed be, 
Of them to take her choice full free, 

Most like a bonny lass. 

And as she like an angel bright 

Betwixt them mildly stood, 
She turn'd unto each several knight 

With pale and changed blood ; 
" Now am I at liberty 

To make and take my choice ? " quoth she : 
" Yea," quoth the knights, " we do agree ; 

Then chuse, thou bonny lass." 

" O Musgrave, thou art all too hot 

To be a lady's love," 
Quoth she, " and Armstrong seems a sot, 

Where love binds him to prove. 
Of courage great is Musgrave still, 
And sith to chuse I have my will, 
Sweet Armstrong shall my joys fulfil, 

And I his bonny lass." 

The nobles and the gentles both 

That were in present place, 
Rejoiced at this sweet record ; 

But Musgrave, in disgrace, 
Out of the hall did take his way, 
And Armstrong marryed was next day 



248 ARMSTRONG AND MUS GRAVE. 

With Isabel his lady gay, 
A bright and bonny lass. 

Bat Musgrave on the wedding-day, 

Like to a Scotchman dight, 
In secret sort allured out 

The bridegroom for the fight; 
And he, that will not outbraved be, 
Unto his challenge did agree, 
Where he was slain most suddenly 
For his fair bonny lass 

The news whereof was quickly brought 

Unto the lovely bride ; 
And many of young Armstrong's kin 

Did after Musgrave ride. 
They hew'd him when they had him got, 
As small as flesh into the pot ; 
Lo ! thus befel a heavy lot 

About this bonny lass. 

The lady young, which did lament 

This cruel cursed strife. 
For very grief dyed that day, 

A maiden and a wife. 
An hundred men that hapless day 
Did lose their lives in that same fray. 
And 'twixt those names, as many say, 

Is deadly strife still biding. 



FAIR MARGARET OF CRAIGNARGAT. 249 



TAIR MARGARET OF CRAIGNARGAT. 

" CRAIGNARGAT is a promontory in the Bay of Luce. 
Though almost surrounded by the Barony of Moch- 
rum, it was long possessed by a branch of the family 
of Macdowall, which was probably our heroine's sur- 
name. — On the head of Fair Margaret's lovers, it 
may be remarked, that the Agnews of Lochnaw are a 
very ancient family, and hereditary sheriffs of Wig- 
ton. The Gordon mentioned was probably Gordon 
of Craighlaw, whose castle was situated about five 
miles from Craignargat, in the parish of Kirkcowan, 
considered so remote before the formation of military 
roads, that the local proverb says, — ' Out of the 
world, and into Kirkcowan.' The Hays of Park 
dwell on the coast, about six miles from Craignargat ; 
but it is singular that the lady is not complimented 
with a Dunbar as her lover, the Place of Mochrum, 
as the old town is called, being only two miles from 
her reputed residence." Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 71. 

Fair Marg'ret of Craiffnarffat 

Was the flow'r of all her kin, 
And she's fallen in love with a false young man. 

Her ruin to begin. 

The more she lov'd, the more it prov'd 

Her fatal destiny, 
And he that sought her overthrow 

Shar'd of her misery. 



250 FAIR MAKGARET OF CRAIGNARGAT. 

Before that lady she was born, 

Her mother, as we find. 
She dreamt she had a daughter fair, 

That was both dumb and blind. 

But as she sat in her bow'r door, 

A-viewing of her charms, 
There came a raven from the south, 

And pluck'd her from her arms. 

Three times on end she dreamt this dream, 

Which troubled sore her mind. 
That from that very night and hour 

She could no comfort find. 

Now she has sent for a wise woman, 

Liv'd nigh unto the port, 
Who being call'd, instantly came, 

That lady to comfort. 

To her she told her dreary dream, 

With salt tears in her eye, 
Hoping that she would read the same. 

Her mind to satisfy. 

" Set not your heart on children young, 

Whate'er their fortune be. 
And if I tell what shall befal, 

Lay not the blame on me. 

** The raven which ye dreamed of. 

He is a false young man, 
With subtile heart and flatt'ring tongue, 

Your daughter to trepan. 



FAIR MARGARET OF CRAIGNARGAT. 251 

" Both night and day, 'tis you I pray 

For to be on your guard, 
For many are the subtile wyles 

By which youth are ensnar'd." 

When she had read the dreary dream, 

It vex'd her more and more. 
For Craignargat, of birth and state, 

Liv'd nigh unto the shore. 

But as in age her daughter wax'd, 

Her beauty did excel 
All the ladies far and near 

That in that land did dwell. 

The Gordon, Hay, and brave Agnew, 

Three knights of high degree, 
Unto the dame a-courting came, 

All for her fair beauty. 

Which of these men, they ask'd her then, 

That should her husband be ; 
But scornfully she did reply, 

" I'll wed none of the three." 

" Since it is so, where shall we go 

A match for thee to find, 
That art so fair and beautiful. 

That none can suit thy mind ? " 

With scorn and pride she answer made, 

" You'll ne'er choice one for me, 
Nor will I wed against my mind, 

For all their high degree." 



252 FAIR MAKGATIET OF C-RATGNARGAT. 

The brave. Agnew, whose heart was true, 

A solemn vow did make, 
Never to love a woman more 

All for that lady's sake. 

To counsel this lady was deaf, 

To judgement she was blind, 
Which griev'd her tender parents dear, 

And troubled sore their mind. 

From the Isle of ]\Ian a courter came, 
And a false young man was he, 

With subtile heart and flatt'ring tongue, 
To court this fair lady. 

This young man was a bold outlaw, 

A robber and a thief, 
But soon he gain'd this lady's heart, 

Whicih caused all their grief. 

" O will you wed," her mother said, 

" A man you do not know. 
For to break your parents' heart. 

With shame but and with woe ? ** 

" Yes, I will go with him,'* she ssdd, 

" Either by land or sea ; 
For he's the man I've pitched on 

My husband for to be." 

" O let her go," her father said, 

" For she shall have her will ; 
My curse and mallison she's got, 

For to pursue her still." 



FAIR MARGARET OF CRAIGNARGAT. 253 

" Tour curse, father, I don't regard, 

Your blessing I'll ne'er crave ; 
To the man I love I'll constant prove,. 

And never him deceive." 

On board with him fair Margaret's gone, 

In hopes his bride to be ; 
But mark ye well, and I shall tell 

Of their sad destiny. 

They had not sail'd a league but five. 

Till the storm began to rise ; 
The swelling seas ran mountains high, 

And dismal were the skies. 

In deep despair that lady fair 

For help aloud she cries, 
While crystal tears like fountains ran 

Down from her lovely eyes. 

"01 have got my father's curse 

My pride for to subdue I 
With sorrows great my heart wiU break, 

Alas what shall I do I 

" O were I at my father's house, 

His blessing to receive, 
Then on my bended knees I'd fall, 

His pardon for to crave I 

" To aid my grief, there's no relief, 

To speak it is in vain ; 
Likewise my loving parents dear 

I ne'er shall see again." 



254 FAIR MARGARET OF CRAIGXARGAT. 

The winds and waves did both conspire 

Their lives for to devour ; 
That gallant ship that night was lost, 

And never was seen more. 

When tidings to Craignargat came, 

Of their sad overthrow, 
It griev'd her tender parent's heart ; 

Afresh began their woe. 

Of the dreary dream that she had seen, 

And often thought upon, — 
" O fatal news," her mother cries, 

" My darling, she is gone I 

" O fair Marg'ret, I little thought 

The seas should be thy grave. 
When first thou left thy father's house, 

Without thy parent's leave." 

May this tragedy a warning be 

To children while they live, 
That they may love their parents dear, 

Their blessing to receive. 



RICHIE STORIE. 255 



RICHIE STORIE. 

"John, third Earl of "VYigton, had six sons, and 
three daughters. The second, Lady Lilllas Fleming, 
was so indiscreet as to marry a footman, by whom she 
had issue. She and her husband assigned her pro- 
vision to Lieutenant-Colonel John Fleming, who dis- 
charged her renunciation, dated in October, 1673." 
Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 95. 

The Earl o' Wigton had three daughters, 
O braw wallie, but they were bonnie ! 
The youngest o' them, and the bonniest too, 
Has fallen in love wi' Richie StOrie. 

" Here's a letter for ye, madame. 
Here's a letter for ye, madame ; 
The Erie o' Home wad fain presume 
To be a suitor to ye, madame." 

" I'll hae nane o' your letters, Richie ; 
I'll hae nane o' your letters, Richie ; 
For I've made a vow, and I'll keep it true, 
That I'll have nane but you, Richie." 

" O do not say so, madame ; 
O do not say so, madame ; 
For I have neither land nor rent, 
For to maintain you o', madame. 



256 KICHIE STORIE. 

" Ribands ye maun wear, madame, 

Ribands ye maun wear, madame ; 

With the bands about your neck 

O' the goud that shines sae clear, madame." 

" I'll lie ayout a dyke, Richie, 
I'll lie ayont a dyke, Richie ; 
And I'll be aye at your command 
And bidding, whan ye hke, Richie." 

O he's gane on the braid braid road, 

And she's gane through the broom sae bonnie, 

Her silken robes down to her heels. 

And she's awa' wi' Richie Storie. 

This lady gaed up the Parliament stair, 
Wi' pendles in her lugs sae bonnie ; 
Mony a lord lifted his hat, 
But little did they ken she was Richie's lady. 

Up then spak the Erie o' Home's lady ; 
*' Was na ye richt sorrie, Annie, 
To leave the lands o' bonnie Cumbernauld, 
And follow Richie Storie, Annie V " 

" what need I be sorrie, madame, 
O what need I be sorrie, madame ? 
.For I've got them that I like best. 
And was ordained for me, madame." 

" Cumbernauld is mine, Annie, 
Cumbernauld is mine, Annie ; 
And a' that's mine, it shall be thine, 
As we sit at the wine, Annie." 



THE farmer's old WIFE. 257 



THE FARMER'S OLD WIFE. 

The Carl of Kellyhurn Braes, composed by Burns 
for Johnson's Museum, (p. 392,) was founded, he 
says, " on the old traditionary verses." These we 
have met with in no other form but the following, 
which is taken from Ancient Poems, Ballads, and 
Songs of the Peasantry of England, edited by Robert 
Bell, p. 204. What is styled the original of The 
Carle of Kellyhurn Braes, in Cromek's Remains of 
Niihsdale an'l Galloicay Song, p. 83, is, like many of 
the pieces in that volume, for the most part a fabrica- 
tion. The place of the burden is supplied in Sussex, 
says Mr. Bell, by a whistling chorus. 

Of the same tenor is the ballad of The Devil and 
the Scold, Collier's Roxhurghe Ballads, p. 35. 

We subjoin the first stanza of Burns's ballad for 
the sake of the burden, which is said to be old. 

There lived a carl on Kellyburn braes, 

Eey, and the rue grows honnie wV thyme^ 
And he had a wife was the plague o' his days, 

And the thyme it is withered, and the rue is inpHme. 



There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell, 
And he had a bad wife, as many knew weU. 

Then Satan came to the old man at the plough, 
" One of your family I must have now. 
VOL. VIII. 17 



258 THE farmer's old wife. 

" It Is not your eldest son that I crave, 
But it is your old wife, and she I will have.'* 

" O welcome, good Satan, with all my heart I 
I hope you and she will never more part." 

Now Satan has got the old wife on his back, 
And he lugged her along like a pedlar's pack. 

He trudged away till they came to his hall-gate : 
Says he, " Here, take in an old Sussex chap's mate. 

O then she did kick the young imps about, — 
Says one to the other, " Let's try turn her out." 

She spied thirteen imps all dancing in chains, 
She up with her pattens, and beat out their brains. 

She knocked the old Satan against the wall, — 
" Let's try turn her out, or she'll murder us alh" 

Now he's bundled her up on his back amain. 
And to her old husband he took her again. 

" I have been a tormentor the whole of my life, 
But I ne'er was tormented till I met with your wife.* 



THE DUEL OF T^HARTON AND STUART. 2o9 



niE DUEL OF WHARTON AND STUAUT. 

Minstrelsy of €ie Scottish Border , iii. 77. 

The unhappy event upon which the following bal- 
hA is founded took place under the reign of James 
the VL 

" The sufferers in this melancholy affair were both 
men of high birth, the heirs-apparent of two noble 
families, and youths of the most promising expecta- 
tion. Sir James Stuart was a knight of the Bath, and 
eldest son of Walter, first Lord Blantyre, by Nicholas, 
daughter of Sir James SomGrville of Cambusnethan. 
Sir George Wharton was also a knight of the Bath, 
and eldest son of Philip, Lord Wharton, by Frances, 
daughter of Henry Clifford, Earl of Cumberland. 
He married Anne, daughter of the Earl of Rutland, 
but lefl no issue." Scott. 

This ballad was printed in the first edition of Rit- 
son's Ancient Songs, p. 199, from a black-letter copy 
in Major Pearson's collection, (afterwards part of the 
Roxburghe.) Scott's version appears to have been 
obtained from James Hogg. " Two verses have beer 
added," says Sir Walter, " and one considerably im- 
proved, from JNIr. Ritson's edition. These three stanzas 
are the fifth and ninth of Part First, and the penult 
verse of Part Second. I am thus particular, that the 
reader may be able, if he pleases, to compare the 
traditional ballad with the original edition. It fur^ 
nishes striking evidence, that ' without characters, 
fame lives long.' The diff"erence chiefly to be re- 



262 THE DUEL OF WHARTON AND STUART. 

No kind of envy could be seen, 

No kind of malice they did betray ; 

But a' was clear and calm as death, 
Whatever in their bosoms lay : 

Till parting time ; and then, indeed. 

They show'd some rancour in their heart ; 

" Next time we meet," says George Wharton, 
" Not half sae soundly we shall part 1 " 

So they have parted, firmly bent 

Their valiant minds equal to try : 
The second part shall clearly show, 

Both how they meet, and how they die. 

PART SECOND. 

George Wharton was the first ae man 
Came to the appointed place that day, 

Where he espyed our Scots lord coming. 
As fast as he could post away. 

They met, shook hands ; their cheeks were pale ; 

Then to George Wharton James did say, 
" I dinna like your doublet, George, 

It stands sae weel on you this day. 

" Say, have you got no armour on ? 

Have you no under robe of steel ? 
I never saw an Englishman 

Become his doublet half sae weel." 

" Fy no ! fy no ! " George Wharton said, 
" For that's the thing that mauna be, 



THE DUEL OF WHARTON AND STUART. 2 G3 

That I should come wi' armour on, 
And you a naked man truly." 

" Our men shall search our doublets, George, 

And see if one of us do lie ; 
Then will we prove, wi' Aveapons sharp, 

Ourselves true gallants for to be." 

Then they threw off their doublets both, 
And stood up in their sarks of lawn ; 

" Now, take my counsel," said Sir James, 
" Wharton, to thee I'll make it knawn : 

" So as we stand, so will we fight, 

Thus naked in our sarks," said he ; 
*' Fy no ! fy no ! " George AVharton says, 

" That is the thing that must not be. 

" We're neither drinkers, quarrellers, 

Nor men that cares na for oursell. 
Nor minds na what we're gaun about, 

Or if we're gaun to heav'n or hell. 

♦' Let us to God bequeath our souls. 

Our bodies to the dust and clay : " 
With that he drew his deadly sword. 

The first was drawn on field that day. 

Se'en bouts and turns these heroes had, 

Or e'er a drop o' blood was drawn ; 
Our Scotch lord, wond'ring, quickly cry'd, 

" Stout Wharton, thou still hands thy awn ! " 



264 THE DUEL OF WHARTON AND STUART. 

The first stroke that George Wharton gae, 
He struck him thro' the shoulder-bane ; 

The neist was thro' the thick o' the thio-h ; 
He thought our Scotch lord had been slain. 

" O ever alack ! " George Wharton cry'd, 
" Art thou a living man, tell me ? 

If there's a surgeon living can, 

He's cure thy wounds right speedily.* 

" No more of that," James Stuart said ; 

" Speak not of curing wounds to me I 
For one of us must yield our breath, 

Ere off the field one foot we flee." 

They looked oure their shoulders both, 
To see what company was there : 

They both had grievous marks of death, 
But frae the other nane wad steer. 

George Wharton was the first that fell, 
Our Scotch lord fell immediately ; 

They both did cry to Him above 

To save their souls, for they bond die. 



SADDLE TO RAGS. 265 



SADDLE TO RAGS. 

From Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the 
Peasantry of England, Percy Society, vol. xvii. p. 
126. The editor took this piece down from the recita- 
tion of a Yorkshire yeoman. Other ballads are popu- 
lar with nearly the same plot, one of them called The 
Crafty Plouglihoy, or the Highioayman outivitted. An- 
other of a similar description is Jock the Leg and the 
Merry Merchant, (Buchan's Ballads of the North of 
Scotland, ii. 165,) formed on the model of some Robin 
Hood ballad. 

This story I'm going to sing, 

I hope it will give you content, 
Concerning a silly old man 

That was going to pay his rent 

As he was a-riding along, 

Along all on the highway, 
A gentleman-thief overtook him, 

And thus unto him did say. 

" O well overtaken, old man, 

O well overtaken," said he ; 
" Thank you kindly, sir," says the old man, 

" If you be for my companie." 

** How far are you going this way ? '* 
It made the old man to smile ; 



266 SADDLE TO RAGS. 

" To tell you the truth, kind, sir, 
I'm just a-going twa mile. 

" I am but a silly old man, 

Who farms a piece of ground ; 

My half-year rent, kind sir, 
Just comes to forty pound. 

" But my landlord's not been at hame, — 
I've not seen him twelve month or more , 

It makes my rent to be large, 
I've just to pay him fourscore." 

" You should not have told any body, 
For thieves there are ganging many ; 

If they were to light upon you, 

They would rob you of every penny.** 

" O never mind," says the old man, 

" Thieves I fear on no side ; 
My money is safe in my bags. 

In the saddle on which I ride.'* 

As they were a-riding along, 

And riding a-down a ghyll. 
The thief pulled out a pist61, 

And bade the old man stand still. 

The old man was crafty and false, 

As in this world are many ; 
He flung his old saddle o'er t' hedge. 

And said, " Fetch it, if thou'lt have any.** 



SADDLE TO RAGS. 2G7 



This thief got oil' his horse, 
With courage stout and bold, 

To search this old man's bags, 
And gave him his horse to hold. 



The old man put foot In stirrup. 

And he got on astride. 
He set the thief's horse in a gallop, — 

You need not bid th' old man ride ! 

" O stay ! O stay ! " says the thief, 

" And thou half my share shalt have : * 

" Nay, marry, not I," quoth the old man, 
" For once I've bitten a knave ! " 

This thief he was not content ; 

He thought these must be bags ; 
So he up with his rusty sword, 

And chopped the old saddle to rags. 

The old man gallop'd and rode 

Until he was almost spent, 
rill he came to his landlord's house. 

And paid him his whole year's rent. 

He opened this rogue's portmantle ; 

It was glorious for to behold ; 
There was five hundred pound in money, 

And other five hundred in gold. 

His landlord it made him to stare, 
When he did the sight behold ; 

" Where did thou get the white money, 
And where get the yellow gold ? " 



2QS SADDLE TO RAGS. 

" I met a fond fool by the way, 

I swapped horses, and gave him no boot ; 
But never mind," says the old man, 

" I got a fond fool by the foot." 

" But now you're grown cramped and old, 

Nor jfit for to travel about ; " 
" O never mind," says the old man, 

" I can give these old bones a root I ** 

As he was a-riding hame, 

And a-down a narrow lane, 
He spied his mare tied to a tree. 

And said, " Tib, thou'lt now gae hame.'' 

And when that he got hame. 

And told his old wife what he'd done, 

She rose and she donned her clothes, 
And about the house did run. 

She sung, and she danced, and sung, 
And she sung with a merry devotion, 

*' If ever our daughter gets wed, 
It will help to enlarge her portion f ** 



THE FAUSE KNIGH'' DPON THE EOAD. 269 



THE FAUSE KNIGHT UPON THE ROAD. 

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. Ixxiv. 

" O whare are ye gaun ? " 

Quo' the fause knicht upon the road ; 

" I'm gaun to the scule," 

Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude. 

" What is that upon your back ? " 
Quo' the fause knicht upon the road ; 

" Atweel it is my bukes," 

Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude. 

" What's that ye've got on your arm ? " 

Quo' the fause knicht, &c. 
" Atweel it is my peit," 

Quo' the wee boy, &c. 

" Wha's aucht they sheep ? " 

Quo' the fause knicht, &c. 
" They are mine and my mither's," 

Quo' the wee boy, &c. 

" Kow monie o' them are mine ? ** 

Quo' the fause knicht, &c. 
" A' they that hae blue tails,** 

Quo' the wee boy, &c. 

" I wiss ye were on yon tree," 
Quo' the fause knicht. &c. ' 



26S SADDLE TO RAGS. 

" I met a fond fool by the way, 

I swapped horses, and gave him no boot ; 
But never mind," says the old man, 

" I got a fond fool by the foot." 

" But now you're grown cramped and old, 

Nor fit for to travel about ; " 
" O never mind," says the old man, 

" I can give these old bones a root I ** 

As he was a-riding hame. 

And a-down a narrow lane. 
He spied his mare tied to a tree, 

And said, " Tib, thou'lt now gae hame." 

And when that he got hame. 

And told his old wife what he'd done, 

She rose and she donned her clothes, 
And about the house did run. 

She sung, and she danced, and sung. 
And she sung with a merry devotion, 

** If ever our daughter gets wed. 
It will help to enlarge her portion I " 



THE FAUSE KNIGH'' DPON THE ROAD. 269 



THE FAUSE KNIGHT UPON THE ROAD. 

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. Ixxiv. 

" O whare are ye gaun ? " 

Quo' the fause knlcht iipon the road ; 

'' I'm gaun to the scule," 

Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude. 

" What is that upon your back ? " 
Quo' the fause knlcht upon the road ; 

" Atweel it is my bukes," 

Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude. 

" What's that ye've got on your arm ? " 

Quo' the fause knicht, &c. 
" Atweel it is my peit," 

Quo' the wee boy, &c. 

" Wha's aucht they sheep ? " 

Quo' the fause knicht, &c. 
" They are mine and my mither's," 

Quo' the wee boy, &c. 

" Kow monie o' them are mine ? ** 

Quo' the fause knicht, &e. 
" A' they that hae blue tails,** 

Quo' the wee boy, &c. 

" I wiss ye were on yon tree," 
Quo' the fause knicht. &c. 



270 THE FAUSE KNIGHT UPON THE ROAD. 

" And a gude ladder under me,** 
Quo' the wee boy, &c. 

" And the ladder for to break," 

Quo' the fause knlcht, &c. 
" And you for to fa' doun," 

Quo* the wee boy, &c. 

" I wiss ye were in yon sie," 

Quo' the fause knicht, &c. 
" And a gude bottom under me,** 

Que* the wee boy, &c. 

" And the bottom for to break," 

Quo' the fause knicht upon the road ; 

** And ye to be drowned," 

Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude. 



GIFTS FROM OVER SEA. 271 



GIFTS FROM OVER SEA. Appendix to p. 11. 

Wright's Songs and Carols^ printed from a MS. in the Sloane 
Collection, No. 8. 

1 HAVE a zong suster fer bezoudyn the se, 
Many be the drowryis that [s]che sente me. 
[Sjche sente me the cherye withoutyn ony ston, 
And so [sjche dede [the] dowe withoutyn ony bon : 
Sche sente me the brere withoutyn ony ryude, 
Sche bad me love my lenuiian withoute longgyng. 

How xuld ony cherye be withoute ston ? 
And how xuld ony dowe ben withoute bon ? 
How xuld any brere ben withoute rynde ? 
How xuld I love myn lemman without lougyng V 

Quan the cherye was a flour, than hadde it non ston : 
Quan the dowe was an ey, than hadde it non bon : 
Quan the brere was on-bred, than hadde it non rynd : 
Quan the mayden hazt that [sJche louth, [sjche is 
without longyng. 



THE COURTEOUS KNIGHT. 

Appendix to p. 11, p. 83. 
From Buchan's Ballads of the Nai'ih of Scotland, i. 91. 

There was a knight, in a summer's night, 

Appear'd in a lady's hall. 
As she was walking up and down, 

Looking o'er her castle wall. 

" God make you safe and free, fair maid, 

God make you safe and free ! " 
" O sae fa' you, ye courteous knight ; 

What are your wills wi' me ? 

** My wills wi' you are not sma*, lady, 

My wills wi' you nae sma' ; 
And since there's nane your bower within, 

Ye'se ha'e my secrets a*. 

*' For here am I a courtier, 

A courtier come to thee ; 
And if ye winna grant your love, 

All for your sake I'll dee." 



THE COURTEOUS KNIGHT. 273 

" If that ye dee for me, sir knight, 

Few for you will make meen ; 
For mony gude lord's done the same, 



" O winna ye pity me, fair maid, 
O winna ye pity me ? 

winna ye pity a courteous knight, 
Whose love is laid on thee V " 

" Ye say ye are a courteous knight, 
But I think ye are nane ; 

1 think ye're but a miliar bred, 
By the color o* your claithing. 

" You seem to be some false young man, 
You wear your hat sae wide ; 

You seem to be some false young man. 
You wear your boots sae side." 

" Indeed I am a courteous knight, 

And of great pedigree ; 
Nae knight did mair for a lady bright 

Than I will do for thee. 

*' I'll put smiths in your smithy. 

To shoe for you a steed ; 
And I'll put tailors in your bower, 

To make you for a weed. 

♦' I will put cooks in your kitchen, 

And butlers in your ha'; 
And on the tap o' your father's castle, 

I'll big gude corn and saw." 

"^OJL. VIII. 18 



274 THE COURTEOUS KNIGHT. 

" If ye be a courteous knight, 

As I trust not ye be, 
Ye'U answer some o' the sma' questions 

That I will ask at thee. 

" What is the fairest flower, tell me, 
That grows in muir^ or dale ? 

Likewise, which is the sAveeiest bird 
Sings next the nightingale ? 

Or what's the finest thing," she says, 
" That king or queen can Avale^ ? 

" The primrose is the fairest flower 
That grows in muir or dale ; 

The mavis is the sweetest bird 
Next to the nightingale ; 

And yellow gowd's the finest thing 
That king or queen can wale. 

" Ye ha'e asked many questions, lady, 

I've you as many told ; " 
" But, how many pennies round 

Make a hundred pounds in gold ? 

" How many of the small fishes. 
Do swim the salt seas round ? 

Or, what's the seemliest sight you'll see 
Into a May morning ? " 

*' Berry-brown ale, and a birken speal, 
And wine in a horn green ; 

A milk-white lace in a fair maid's dress, 
Looks gay in a May morning." 
1 mire. ^ -wile. 



THE COUR.TEOUS KNIGHT. 275 

" Mony's the questions I've ask'd at tLee, 

And ye've answer'd them a* ; 
Ye are mine, and I am thine, 

Amo' the sheets sae sma'/' 

" You may be my match, kind sir, 

You may be my match and more ; 
There ne'er was ane came sic a length, 

Wi' my father's heir before. 

" My father's lord o' nine castles, 

My mother she's lady ower three. 
And there is nane to heir them all, 

No never a ane but me ; 
Unless it be Willie, my ae brother, 

But he's far ayont the sea." 

" If your father's laird o' nine castles, 

Your mother lady ower three ; 
I am Willie your ae brother. 

Was far beyond the sea." 

" If ye be Willie, my ae brother. 

As I doubt sair ye be ; 
But if it's true ye tell me now. 

This nioht I'll f^anfr wi' thee.'* 

" Ye've ower ill washen feet, Janet, 

And ower 111 washen hands, 
And ower coarse robes on your body, 

Alang wi' me to gang. 

" The worms they are my bed-fellows, 
And the cauld clay my sheet ; 



276 THE COURTEOUS KNIGHT. 

And the higher that the wind does blaw, 
The sounder I do sleep. 

" My body's buried in Dumfermline, 

And far beyond the sea ; 
But day nor night, nae rest cou'd get, 

All for the pride o' thee. 

" Leave aff your pride, jelly Janet," he says, 

" Use it not ony mair ; 
Or when ye come where I hae been, 

You will repent it sair. 

" Cast aif, cast aff, sister," he says, 
" The gowd lace fray your crown ; 

For if ye gang where I ha'e been, 
Ye'U wear it laigher down. 

** When ye're in the gude church set. 

The gowd pins in your hair, 
Ye take mair delight in your feckless dress 

Than ye do in your morning prayer. 

" And when ye walk in the church-yard, 

And in your dress are seen. 
There is nae lady that sees your face 

But wishes your grave were green. 

" You're straight and tall, handsome withall. 
But your pride owergoes your wit ; 

But if ye do not your ways refram. 
In Pirie's chair yc'll sit. 



THE ^^OKTHERN LORD AND CRUEL JEW. 277 

" In Plrie's chair you'll sit, I say, 

The lowest seat o' bell ; 
If ye do not amend your ways, 

It's there that ye must dwell.** 

Wi' that he vanish'd frae her sight, 

Wi' the twinkling o' an eye ; 
Naething mair the lady saw. 

But the gloomy clouds and sky. 



THE NORTHERN LORD AND CRUEL JEW. 

Appendix to p. 46. 

This ballad, which has some features of resem- 
blance to Cymbeline, as well as to the Merchant of 
Venice, is taken from Buchan's Gleanings of Scotch, 
English, and Irish scarce old Ballads, p. 105. An- 
other copy is in Mr. Halli well's New Boke about Shah* 
'ipeare, p. 19. 

A NOBLE lord of high renown, 

Two daughters had, the eldest brown, 



278 THE NOHTHERX LORD AND CRUEL JEW. 

The youngest beautiful and fair : 

By chance a noble knight came there. 

Her father said, " Kind sir, I have 
Two daughters : which do you crave ? ** 
" One that is beautiful," he cried ; 
The noble knight he then replied : 

" She's young, she's beautiful and gay, 
And is not to be given away, 
But as jewels are bought and sold ; 
She shall bring me her weight in gold. 

" The price I think ye need not grudge, 
Since I will freely give as much 
With her one sister, if I can 
Find out some other nobleman." 

With that bespoke the noble knight, 
" I'd sooner have the beauty bright. 
At that vast rate, renowned lord, 
Than the other with a vast reward." 

So then the bargain it was made ; 
But ere the money could be paid, 
He had it of a wealthy Jew ; 
The sum so large, the wi-itings drew 

That if he failed, or miss'd the day, 
So many ounces he should pay 
Of his own flesh, instead of gold ; 
All was agreed, the sum was told. 



THE NORTHERN LORD AND CRUEL JEW. 279 

So he returned immediately 
Unto the lord, where he did buy 
His daughter fine, I do declare, 
And paid him down the money there. 

He bought her there, it is well known 
Unto mankind ; she was his own ; 
By her a son he did enjoy, 
A sweet and comely handsome boy. 

At length the time of pay drew near, 
When the knight did begin to fear ; 
He dreaded much the cruel Jew, 
Because the money it was due. 

His lady asked him why he grieved : 
He said, "My jewel, I received 
Such sum of money of a Jew, 
And now the money it is due. 

" And now the day of payment's come, 
I'm sure I cannot pay the sum ; 
He'll have my flesh, weight for weight, 
Which makes my grief and sorrow great." 

" Hush, never fear him," she replied ; 
We'll cross the raging ocean wide, 
And so secure you from the fate : " 
To her request he yielded straight 

Then having pass'd the raging seas, 
They travelled on, till by degrees 
Unto the German court they came. 
The knight, his son, and comely dame. 



280 THE NORTHERN LORD AND CRUEL JEW, 

Unto tte Emperor he told 
His storv of the sum of gold 
That he had borrowed of a Jew, 
And that for fear of death he flew. 

The Emperor he did erect 
A court for them, and show'd respect 
Unto his guests, because they came 
From Britain, that ble«5t land of fame. 

As here he lived In delight, 
A Dutch lord told our English knight, 
That he a ton of gold would lay, 
He could enjoy his lady gay. 

From her, the lord he was to bring 
A rich and costly diamond ring, 
That was to prove and testify- 
How he did with his lady lie. 

He tries, but never could obtain 
Her favour, but with high disdain 
She did defy his base intent ; 
So to her chambermaid he went. 

And told her If she would but steal 
Her lady's ring, and to conceal 
The same, and bring It to him straight, 
She should enjoy a fine estate. 

In hopes of such a fine reward, 

The ring she stole ; then the Dutch lord 



THE NOKTTIEKN LOHD AND CKUEL JEW. 281 

Did take it to the noble knight, 
Who almost swooned at the sight 

Home he goes to the lady straight ; 
Meeting her at the palace gate, 
He flung her headlong into the mote, 
And left her there to sink or float. 



Soon after that, in clothes of green, 
She like a warlike knight was seen, 
And in most gallant gay deport 
She rode unto the Emperor's court 

Now when the Emperor beheld 
Her brave deportment, he was fill'd 
With admiration at the sight, 
Who call'd herself an English knight 

The Emperor then did reply, 
" We have an English knight to die 
For drowning of his lady gay ; " 
Quoth she, " I'd see him, if I may." 

'Twas granted ; so to him she came, 
And calling of him by his name, 
She said, " Kind sir, be of good cheer; 
Your friend I'll be, you need not fear." 

She to the Emperor did ride. 
And said, " Now let this cause be tried 
Once more, for I've a mind to save 
This noble gallant from the grave." 



282 THE KORTHEllN LORD AND CRUEL JEW. 

It being done, the court was set ; 

The Dutch lord came, seeming to fret, 

About the ring seeming to fear, 

How truth wpuld make his shame appear. 

And so it did, and soon they call 
The maid, who on her knees did fall 
Before the court, and did confess 
The Dutch lord's unworthiness. 

The court replied, " Is it so ? 
The lady, too, for ought we know, 
May be alive ; therefore we'll stay 
The sentence till another day." 

Now the Dutch lord gave him a ton 
Of gold, which he had justly won, 
And so he did with shame and grief, 
And thus the knight obtain'd relief. 

The Dutch lord to revenge the spite 
Upon our noble English knight, 
Did send a letter out of hand, 
And so the Jew did understand. 

How he was in a German court ; 
So here upon this good report, 
The Jew has cross'd the ocean wide, 
Resolving to be satisfied. 

Soon as e'er he fixed his eyes. 
Unto the knight in wrath he cries, 
" Your hand and seal I pray behold } 
Your flesh I'll have instead of gold." 



THE NORTHERN LORD AND CRUEL JEW. 283 

[Then] said the noble knight in green, 
" May not your articles be seen V " 
" Yes, that they may," replied the Jew, 
" And I'm resolved to have my due." 

So then the knight began to read ; 
At length she said, " I find, indeed, 
Nothing but flesh you are to have ; " 
Answers the Jew, " That's all I crave." 

The poor distressed knight was brought ; 
The bloody-minded Jew he thouglit 
That day to be reveng'd on him. 
And part his flesh from every limb. 

The knight in green said, " Mr. Jew, 
There's nothing else but flesh your due ; 
Then see no drop of blood you shed, 
For if you do, off goes your head. 

" Pray take your due, with all my heart, 
But with his blood I will not part." 
With that the Jew sneaked away, 
And had not one word more to say. 

No sooner were these troubles past, 
But his wife's father came at last, 
Resolving for to have his life, 
For drowning his beloved wife. 

Over tlie seas her father brought 
Many brave horses ; one was bought 
By the pretended knight in green. 
Which was the best that e'er was seen. 



284 THE NORTHERN LORD AND CRUEL JEW. 

So to the German court he came, 
Declaring, such a one by name 
Had drowned his fair daughter dear, 
And ought to die a death severe. 

They brought him from the prison then, 
Guarded by many armed men. 
Unto the place where he must die, 
And the young knight was standing by. 

Then from her side her sword she drew. 
And run her gelding through and through. 
Her father said, " Why do you so ? " 
" I may ; it is my own, you know. 

" You sold your gelding, 'tis well known ; 
1 bought it, making it my own, 
And may do what I please with it ; " 
And then to her he did submit. 

" Here is a man arraign'd and cast. 
And brought to suffer death at last. 
Because your daughter dear he slew; 
Which if he did, what's that to you ? 

" You had your money, when you sold 
Your daughter for her weight in gold ; 
Wherefore he might, it is well known, 
Do what he pleased with his own." 

So having chang'd her garments green, 
And dress'd herself like a fair queen, 
Her father and her husband straight 
Both knew her, and their joys were great 



gight's lady. 

Soon tbej- did carry the report 
Unto the famous German court, 
How the renowned Enjillsli knight 
Had found his charming lady bright. 

So the Emperor and the lords of fame, 
With cheerful hearts they did proclaim 
An universal joy, to see 
His lady's life at liberty. 



GIGHT'S LADY. Appendix to p. 93. 

From Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, i, 133. 

BucHAN complains that all other editions of this 
ballad " have been deprived of their original beauty 
and catastrophe " by officious and sacrilegious hands, 
and adds that his copy " is quite at variance with all 
its printed predecessors." In this last remark he is 
certainly correct, but as for his affirmation that the 
oallad " recounts an affair which actually took place 
in the reign, or rather minority, of King James VI.,'* 
we ask for some authority beyond his note to the 
ballad. 

In another copy mentioned by Motherwell, Geordie, 
from jealousy, ungratefully drowns his deliverer in 
the sea. 

" First I -was lady o' Black Riggs, 

And then into Kincraigie ; 
Now I am the Lady o' Gight, 

And my love he's ca'd Geordie. 



286 gight's ladt. 

" I was the mistress o' Pitfan, 

And madam o' Kincraigie ; 
But now my name is Lady Anne, 

And I am Gight's own lady. 

" We courted in the woods o' Gight, 
Where birks and flow'rs spring bonny ; 

But pleasures I had never one, 
But sorrows thick and mony. 

" He never own'd me as his wife, 
Nor honour'd me as his lady. 

But day by day he saddles the grey, 
And rides to Bignet's lady." 

When Bignet he got word of that, 
That Gight lay wi' his lady, 

He's casten him in prison strong, 
To ly till lords were ready. 

" Where will I get a little wee boy, 
That is baith true and steady, 

That will run on to bonny Gight, 
And bring to me my lady V " 

' " here am I, a little wee boy. 
That is baith true and steady. 
That will run to the yates o' Gight, 
And bring to you your lady." 

" Ye'll bid her saddle the grey, the grey, 
The brown rode ne'er so smartly ; 

Ye'll bid her come to Edinbro' town, 
A' for the life of Geordie. " 



gight's lady. 287 

The night was fair, the moon was clear, 

And he rode by Bevany, 
And stopped at the yates o' Gight, 

Where leaves were thick and mony. 

The lady look'd o'er castle wa', 

And dear but she was sorry 1 
" Here comes a page frae Edinbro' town ; 

A' is nae well wi' Geordie. 

" ^Vhat news, what news, my little boy ? 

Come tell me soon and shortly ; " 
" Bad news, bad news, my lady," he said, 

" They're going to hang your Geordie." 

" Ye'll saddle to me the grey, the grey, 

The brown rade ne'er so smartly ; 
And I'll awa' to Edinbro' town. 

Borrow the life o' Geordie.'* 

AVTien she came near to Edinbro' town, 

I wyte she didna tarry ; 
But she has mounted her grey steed, 

And ridden the queen's berry. 

When she came to the boat of Leith, 

I wat she didna tarry ; 
She gae the boatman a guinea o' gowd, 

To boat her ower the ferry. 

WTien she came to the pier o' Leith, 

The poor they were sae many ; 
She dealt the gowd right liberallie, 

And bade them pray for Geordie* 



288 GIGHT*S LADY. 

When she gaed up the tolbooth stair, 

The nobles there were many : 
And ilka ane stood hat on head, 

But hat in hand stood Geordie. 

She gae a blink out ower them a', 
And three blinks to her Geordie ; 

But when she saw his een fast bound, 
A swoon fell in this lady. 

« Whom has he robb'd ? What has he stole ? 

Or has he killed ony? 
Or what's the crime that he has done. 

His foes they are sae mony ? " 

" He hasna brunt, he hasna slain. 

He hasna robbed ony ; 
But he has done another crime, 

For which he will pay dearly.'* 

Then out it speaks Lord Montague, 

(O wae be to his body !) 
" The day we hang'd young Charles Hay, 

The morn we'll head your Geordie." 

Then out it speaks the king himsell, 

Vow, but he spake bonny ! 
*' Come here, young Gight, confess your sins, 

Let's hear if they be mony. 

** Come here, young Gight, confess your sins, 

See ye be true and steady ; 
And if your sins they be but sma'. 

Then ye'se win wi' your lady " 



gight's lady. 289 

" Nane have I robb'd, nought have I sto^vn, 

Nor have I killed ony ; 
But ane o' the king's best brave steeds, 

I sold hhn in Bevany.'* 

Then out it speaks the king again, 

Dear, but he spake bonny ! 
" That crime's nae great ; for your lady's sake, 

Put on your hat now, Geordie.'* 

Then out it speaks Lord Montague, 

wae be to his body ! 

" There's guilt appears in Gight's ain face, 
Ye'll cross examine Geordie." 

*' Now since it all I must confess, 

My crime's baith great and mony: 
A woman abused, five orphan babes, 

1 kill'd them for their money." 

Out it speaks the king again, 

And dear but he was sorry 1 
" Your confession brings confusion, 

Take aff your hat now, Geordie." 

Then out it speaks the lady hersell, 

Yow, but she was sorry I 
" Now all my life I'll wear the black. 

Mourn for the death o* Geordie.'* 

Lord Iluntly then he did speak out, 

O fair mot fa' his body I 
" I there will fight doublet alane, 

Or ony thing ails Geordie.'* 

VOL. VIII. 19 



290 gight's lady. 

Then out it speaks the king again, 

Vow, but he spake bonny ! 
" If ye'll tell down ten thousand crowns, 

Ye'll buy the life o' Geordie." 

She spread her mantle on the ground, 
Dear, but she spread it bonny I 

Some gae her crowns, some ducadoons, 
And some gae dollars mony. 

Then she tauld down ten thousand crowns, — 
" Put on your hat, my Geordie." 

Then out it speaks Lord Montague, 

Wae be to his body ! 
"I wisht that Gight wanted the head; 

I might enjoy'd his lady." 

Out it speaks the lady hersell, 
" Ye need ne'er wish my body ; 

O ill befa' your wizzen'd snout ! 
Wou'd ye compare wi' Geordie ? '* 

When she was in her saddle set, 

Riding the leys sae bonny. 
The fiddle and fleet play'd ne'er sae sweet, 

As she behind her Geordie. 

" O Geordie, Geordie, I love you well, 
Nae jealousie cou'd move me ; 

The birds in air, that fly in pairs, 
Can witness how I love you. 

" Ye'll call for one, the best o' clerks, 
Ye'll call him soon and shortly ; 



GIGHT S LADY. 291 

As he may write what I indite, 
A' this I've done for Geordie." 

He turn'd him right and round about, 

And high, high looked Geordie ; 
" A finger o' Bignet's lady's hand 

Is worth a' your fair body." 

" My lands may a' be masterless, 
My babes may want their mother ; 

But I've made a vow, will keep it true, 
I'll be bound to no other." 

These words they caus'd a great dispute, 
And proud and fierce grew Geordie ; 

A sharp dagger he pulled out, 
And pierc'd the heart o's lady. 

The lady's dead, and Gight he's fled, 

And left his lands behind him ; 
Altho' they searched south and north. 

There were nane there cou'd find him. 

Now a' that liv'd into Black Riggs, 

And likewise in Kincraigie, 
For seven years were clad in black, 

To mourn for Gight's own lady. 



GLOSSARY. 



Figures placed after words denote the pages in which they occur. 
Tho Komau uuiuerals indicate the Tolumes. 



a, 0/. 

a, one. 

a', all. 

abee, abene, he. 

abeen, abien, aboif, aboon, 

aboun, abune, above, vpon ; 

iii., 151, above the surface 

of the water. 
ablins, perhaps. 
abound, ii., 335, bound. 
abowthe, aboiit. 
aboyding, abiding. 
abugge, aby, pay for. 
abune a' thing, above all 

things. 
aby, abaye, pay, pay for, pay 

a penalty for, suffer. 
accompany, vii., 3U8, keep the 

company of. 
ackward stroke, ankeward 

stroke, iii.. 84, 178, cross or 

back stroke ; acward stroke, 

v., 21, awkwarde stroke, v., 

166, a?i unusual out-of-the- 

tvay stroke, which could not 

be (juarded ayainsf. 
acton, a leather jacket worn 

under a coat of mail. 
a dee, ii., 335, to do. 
adrenche, drown. 
ae, one; first ae, frst. 
ae, only, sole. 
ae aye, still. 
afEected, enamored. 
a-fit, afoot. 



aft, oft. 

aftur the way, v., 11, vpon 

the way. 

agayne, against. 

aglets, tags to laces. 

agone, ago. 

agynneth, begin. 

ahin, ahiiit, behind^ besides. 

aik, oak. 

airn, iron; aims, ii^ons. 

airt, quarter of the compass, 
direction ; airts, quarters, 
2)oints of the compass. 

airy, ery, fearful, inspinng 
dread. 

aith, oath. 

alacing, saying alas. 

alane, alone ; alane, minei 
alone by myself. 

alast, latterly. 

Alcaron, v., 414, the name of 
an imaginary deity, by me- 
tathesisfrom A Icoran.— Kit- 
son, the original reading 
is, however, Acaron. 

aid, old. 

alkone, each one. 

all and some, each and all 
all and sum, all and sever alf 
one and all. 

allangst, vii., 182, along, 

a lies, all. 

allinge, altogether. 

alow, vi., 245, below. 

als, as. 



294 



GLOSSABT. 



als, also. 

al so, at once. 

al so mote, so may I. 

altherbest, best of all. 

amain, all, v., 2i)2, at once. 

amense, amends. 

American leather, vi., 244 ? 

among, iv , 144, J'ro7}i time to 

time. 
an, if. _ 

an, one ; an ae, one single. 
ance, anes, anis, once. 
anceane, ancient, aged. 
ancyents, vii., 63, ensigns. 
and, if. 

ane, viii., 148 ? 
aneath, beneath. 
anent,_ opposite to, over . 

agrdnst. 
aueughe, anew, auewche, 

enough. 
angel, a gold coin, varying in 

value from about six shil- 

li)i(/s and eight 2)ence to ten 

sh tilings. — Ha 1 1 i we II ' s Diet. 
an honde, vi,, 283, in hand. 
aninder, under. 
anker, anchorite. 
apaid, satisfied. 
aplyht, vi., 273, a particle of 

contirmation, indeed, on my 

toord, etc. 
appone, upon. 
aquelleden, hilled. 
aquo}', coy, averse. 
aras, arrows. 
araye, order. 
arblast-bow, crossbow. 
are, before, early. 
arena, are not. 
arewe, vi., 209, rue, feel ag- 

gritved by. 
a right e, laid hold of. 
arminge-sword, a two-handed 

sicord. 
armorie, i., 237, band of armed 

men. 
i-row, a-rowe, in a row. 
JLrthiir-?-13radley, v., 351, the 

title, of a ballad. 



arwe, arroio ; arwys, arrows* 

asay, tHed. 

asey, assay. 

ask, newt, a kind of lizard. 

asking, boon. 

askryede. described. 

assoile, absolve; assoyld, a6- 
solved. 

assoygne, vi., 271, delay 
(lines 66, 67, should prob- 
ably be transposed). 

assy-pan, viii., 140, ash-pan. 

asteir, astir, moved (his auger). 

astonyd, confounded. 

asLird, azured, blue. 

as who sayeth, so to speak, 

at, that. 

at, i., 296, of. 

athir, either. 

atteynt, seize. 

attour, over, across. 

atweel, icell, very well. 

atween, between. 

aucht, aught, owns; wha is 
aucht that bairn V who is it 
owns that child f aught, 
owed; aughts, owns. 

auld son, iii., 102. " Young 
Son and Auld Son are 
phrases used only to denote 
the comparative ages of 
children. The young son is 
perhaps the child now in the 
nurse's arms; the auld son, 
he who has just begun to 
walk without the leading- 
string. — Chambers. 

austerne, vii., 99. austere. 

ava, of all ; iii., 287, at all. 

avanse, gain, succeed. 

avow, avowe, vow. 

avow, vi., 261, consent, un- 
dertake. 

avow6, founder, patron, pro- 
tector. 

avowerie, protection, support, 

aw, all. 

awa, away. 

a-warslin, a wrestling. 

awayte me scatke, v., 80, Ce 



GLOSSARY. 



295 



in wait, or lay plots, to do 
me vijury. 

awenn, awin, own. 

awet, know. 

awsom e, friyh. tful. 

ay, a. 

ayen, again. 

ayenst, against. 

ayeyn, against ; vi., 278, 
v., 103, a word seems to have 
dropped out. Tlie sense is, 
there is no resisting the 
stars. Wright reads stare. 

ayont, beyond, on one side of\ 
on the other side of. 

ayre, by, v., 397, early. 

azon, v., 39, against, towards 
[them]. 

ba', hall. 

baclvefysyke, i., 22. 

bade, prayed for. 

bade, abode, staid. 

badena, abode not. 

baffled, disgraced. 

baill, sorrow. 

bairn, barn, child, wight. 

bairn ly, child-like. 

bairntime, brood of children. 

baith, both. 

bald, bold. 

bale, blaze, f re. 

bale, harm, ruin, sorroio, mis- 
chief; ballys bete, vii., 42, 
better, amend, our evils. 

bale-tire, bane-tire, bonfire. 

ballup, v., 264, the front or 
Jlaj) of small clothes. 

balow, a word used in lulling 
children. 

ban', biiund. 

ban, band, ii., 89, bond. 

band, agreement. 

ban'd, execrated. 

bandoun, command, orders; 
viii., 150, captivity. 

bane, bone. 

bangisters, violent and lawless 
jieople, those thai have the 
upper hand, victors. 



banis, bane. 

bankers, i., 276, coverings for 
benches. 

banket, banquet. 

bann, curse. 

banning, cursing. 

barker, tanner, from the bark 
used in his business. 

barking, v., 336, leather tan- 
ning. 

barne (A. Sax. heorn), chief, 
man. 

barrow - hogge, viii., 47, a 
gelded hog. 

basnet, helmet; basnites, bas- 
sonetts, helmets. 

battellis, vii., 225, divisions of 
the army, or, the armies. 

battes, cudgels, or blows. 

batts, beating. 

bauld, viii., 117, bold, self- 
complacent. 

bayarde bay-horse, horse in 
general: "blind Bayard" 
was a proverb. 

baylayes, v., 153, bailiffs, 
sheriffs' officers. 

be, by, at, hy the time that. 

bearing arrow, vii., 65, bear- 
yng arow, v., 155, "an 
arrow that carries Avell." — 
Percy, who also suggests 
birring, i. e. tvhirring, whiz^ 
zing. See Boucher's Glos- 
sary. 

became, v., 184, came. 

beck, stream. 

bed, vii., 224, 229, abode, re- 
mained. 

bede, viii., l()o, put forward, 
offer. 

bedeen, vii., 265, in numbers, 
one after another. 

bedeene, iii., 247, immedi- 
ately f continuously? 

bedene, v., 77, in a company 
together 1 

bedight, famished. 

bedone, i., 8, bedecked. 



296 



GLOSSARY. 



bed-stock, tlie side of the bed 
farther from the wcdl. 

bedyl, v., 153, beadle, the 
keeper of n prison. 

beet, ii., 340, add fuel. 

beet, vi., 90, help. 

beforn. v., 41, beforne, before, 
frst. 

beft, ,v., 203, beaten. 

began e, bedecked. 

begeck. give a, v., 198, make a 
mock if, expose to derision. 

begoud, befjnn. 

begyniie tlie bord, sit at the 
head of (he table. 

beheste, v., 429, pi'onme. 

behote, v., 99, promise ; 96, 
promised. 

belmvit, behoved, must. 

beik, viii., 117, tcarm. 

beild, shelter; vii., 224, posi- 
tion of S'fety. 

beir, noise, cry. 

beked, iv., 305, made warm. 

belinger, iv., 283 ? 

belive, bel yfe, quickly, at once, 
soon. 

bellv blind, iii., 3G5, stone 
blind. 

bemean, iv. 8G, disparage. 

ben, bend, in, within. 

ben, proDipt, ready. 

benbow, v., 432 bende-bow, 
bent bow. 

bend, v., 405, turn of a forest. 

bended, vii., 182, bovndedf 

benjed, iv., 305, received hos- 
pitably, made preparations 
for his comfort f 

bent, plain, feld (from the 
coarse grass growing on 
open lands); bentis, bents, 
coarse yrass. 

benty, covered with the coarse 
ffrass called bent; benty- 
line, vi., 13 ? 

ber, bare. 

berne (A. Sax. beorn), chief, 
man. 

berry, vili., 285, corrupt? 



beryde, i., 98, cried, made a 

noise. 

bescro, beshreto, curse. 

bese, will, or, shall be. 

beseen, weil, vi., 132, well 
appointed ; besene, wel, ap- 
pearing well, well dressed, 
etc. 

bestan, best. 

best man, bride's, i., 85, best 
young man, bridesman (cor- 
responding to the best maid, 
or bridesmaid). 

bestead, bestedde, circum^ 
stanced, jmt to it. 

besyd, iv., 247, astray. 

bet, beat. 

bet, better. 

beth, both. 

beth, vii., 98, is. 

be that, by that. 

betrasit, betrayed. 

beur, bore. 

bewch, v., 159, bough. 

be-west, to the west of. 

bewrav, discord. 

bi, be: 

bidden, bidding. 

bide, vi., 2TS, pray to. 

bidene, in a company, fortJi- 
with ? 

bier, cry. 

bierdly, large and well mnde^ 
stately. 

bierly, i., 148, proper, becom- 
ing, comfortable. 

big, bigg, build; bigged, big- 
git, built. 

big, viii., 21^, cultivate. 

biggins, b'ggingis, buildings. 

bigiy, spacivuK, commodious^ 
plvasant to live in. 

biheveded, beheaded. 

bil, 2yike, or ludbert. 

bilive, lilive, blyve, quickly. 

bill. bull. 

bill, halbert. 

bille, see sworne. 

billie, comrade, brother j a 
term of a£'ection. 



GLOSSARY. 



297 



Billy Blind, or Billy Blin, a 
benif/nant household fairy, 
like the Lubber Fiend. 

binkes, benches. 

binna. be not, beest not. 

bird, lady. 

birk, birch. 

birl, di-ink, pmir Out drinh, 
ply with drink; birliiiq', 
pouring out Idrink], drink- 
ing ; birled, i., 211, poured 
out drink, or drunk. 

birst (burst), fray. 

bla', blow. 

blae, blue. 

blae, livid. 

blaewort, Hue bottle, witch 
bells. 

blaithe, blithe. 

blan, blane, blanne, ceased, 
stopped. 

blate, sheepish, foolish, 
ashamed. 

blear [noun], dimness. 

bledoch, buttermilk. 

blee, color, complexion. 

bleid, blood. 

blewe, i., 99, sounded a horn. 

blin, blinne, blyn, stop, cease. 

blin'd, blint, blinded. 

blink, smile; blinkit, viii., 
95, looked kindly. 

blink, vi., 49, glanced. 

blinket, blinked, winked. 

blowe bost, v., 55, make boast. 

blatter, v., 195, dirty. 

bobaunce, vanity, presump- 
tion. 

bockinq, belching, fowing out. 

bode, bid. 

bodward, 182, message. 

bogle, spectre, goblin. 

boUes, bowls. 

boltys, arrows, especially ar- 
rows with a blunt head. 

bone, boon. 

bone, iv., 247, bane. 

bookesman, clerk, secretary. 

bockin, bo'kin, bodkin, small 
dagger. 



boome, i., 287. Qy. goorae, 
man ? 

boon, above. 

booting, v., 188, robbing ad' 
venture. 

bord, table. 

bore, crevice, hole. 

borow, surety. 

borowe, redeem. 

borrow, stand surety for, ran- 
som, rescue ; bonowit, bor- 
rowed, vii., 18, ransomed. 

boskyd, made ready. 

bot and, and also, but aha. 

bot dreid, iv., 246, without 
doubt. 

bote, help, use. 

bote, vi., 274, amends; bote, 
no, not better off. 

bottys, shooting butts. 

bond, viii., 2G4, behoved, must 
needs. 

bond, iv., 297 ? 

bouer, bouerie, bouir, bour, 
boure, bower, chamber^ 
dwelling. 

bought, a pen in the corner 
of a fold, into lohich the 
ewes are driven to be milked. 

bonk, body, carcass ; bouks, 
bodies. 

boun, boune, bown, bowne, 
bowyn, ready, prepared, 
make ready, ready to go ; 
make ye boun, i., 289, boun, 
187, go straightway ; boun, 
iii., 334, go ; v., 244, going; 
bown'd, 193, woit ; vii., 
235, going; bound, bowynd, 
19, 5, 6, ynade ready, went. 

bountith, bounties. 

boustouslie, threateningly. 

bout, bolt; bouted, bolted. 

bow, bule, two bushels. 

bowne, boon. 

bowrd, Jest; hourdQs, jests. 

boyt, both. 

bra', braw, handsome, bravBy 
fine ; braw wallie, fair 



298 



GLOSSARY. 



fm^fune, exclamation of 

pleasure or admiration, 
brace, vii., 260, same as 

breeze, liurrij ? 
bracken, bvaken, female fei-n. 
brade, braid, bruad. 
brae, hillside. 
brajxged, defied. 
braid, vi., 245. Qy. corrupt? 
braide at a, v., 145, suddenly, 

in a moment. 
braid letter, an open letter, or 

letter jjntent. 
brain, mad ; brain, gang, go 

mad. 
bra'ly, bravely. 
brauiv, vi., 124, prance, caper; 

branken, brankiug, pranc- 
ing, capering. 
branks, a rude sort of bridle 

of rope and loood, used by 

country people, 
brash, sickness. 
brast, burst. 
brat, cloth. 
braves, bravadoes. 
braveries, disphys. 
brawn, iv., 9-3, calf of the 

leg. 
brayd, started, turned. 
brayd attour the bent, iv., 

2*48. strode across the grass 

or f eld. 
brayd on, vi., 32, move on 

(rapidly). 
brayn pannes, sJculls. 
bread, vii., 59, breadth ; bred, 

broad. 
breast, vi., 249, voice. 
breast, iii., 44, make a horse 

spring up or forward f 
breasting, springing forward. 
brechani, collar of a work- 
ing horse. 
brechan, tartan, plaid. 
bred, breed. 
brede, o, ant o leynthe, in 

breadth and in length, far 

and wide. 
bree, brie, brow. 



bree, soup, broth. 

breek, breeks, breeches; vi., 

70, breek -thigh, the side 

pocket of the breeches. 
brening, brenning, burning; 

brenyng drake, f re-drake, 

fery dragon. 
brenne, burn ; brent, burnt, 

ii., 308, v., 31, straight? 
brent, iv., 308, high, straight. 
brere, briar, thorn. 
brest, burst. 

brether, i., 26, brethren. 
breyde, a start, leap. 
breyde. started, leaj^ed, stepp>ed 

hastily. 
bricht. bright. 
bricht, the, viii., 149, the fair 

one. 
briddis, birds, 
bride- ale, a tcedding festival, 

so called from the bride's 

selling ale on the tcedding 

day, in return for which she 

received a large price by 

way of present. 
bridesteel (Buchan), ii., 183, 

bridal ? 
brigg, brigue, bridge. 
brim, fierce. 

brinies, waters. , 

britled, i., 15, brittened, 106, 

cut up, carved. 
brode-hen. viii., 105, broods 

hen, sitting-hen ? 
brodinge, iii., IIQ, pricking, 
hrod'it, pierced. 
brok, bruik, bruke, have pos- 
session of enjoy, keep. 
brok, brook. 

broke, v., 91, use and enjoy. 
broked cow, a cow that has 

black spots mixed with white 

in her face. 
broken men, outlawed men. 
bronde, 6ro7iJ, sword. 
broo, broth. 
brook, enjoy, preserve; vii., 

186, toKe (possession of). 
broom-cow, bush of broom. 



GLOSSARY. 



299 



arose, vii., 261, pottcif/e. 

broiiiue, brown, brewed. 

broust. breioiifje. 

b ro w h e a ( 1 , forehead. 

browthe browzt. broiifjht. 

briich, bi-ugli bur(/h, city. 

bruchty, spotted, or streaked 
with dirt ; brncket 3'owe, 
viii., 140, speckled ewe. 

briies, brown. 

brii.t;ge, bridge. 

bruik, enjoy. 

brunt, burnt. 

brusten, bryste, burst. 

brytl, bird. 

bryk, breeches. 

brynies, cu>rasses. 

bryttlecl, cut vp ; bryttlynge, 
cutting up (of game). 

bue, i., 2:3-4, 23b, fair? 

bueth, be. 

bufft coat, leather coat. 

biift, buffeted, beat. 

bug. built. 

bugyle, horn. 

biiird, board. 

bully, see bjjlie. 

bund, bound. 

bunge, i., 239 ? 

buntin, buntlin, blackbird; al. 
wood-lark. 

bur, bore. 

burd, byrde, maid, lady. 

burd-alane, burd-alone, alone. 

burel, s'tckcloth. 

Burlow-beanle, i., 241, name 
of a fend or spirit. 

burn, burne, brook. 

busk, buske, dress, adorn, 
make ready ; busk on, put 
on for dress; buskit, dress- 
ed, v., 54, 7nake ready to 
go ; busking, dressing, mak- 
ing ready. 

buske, bush. 

buss, bush. 

busshement, amhusli. 

bussiny, vi., 137, covering 
'stolen from the packs). 



but, butt, i., 203, and; but 
and, and also; but, without^ 
vii., 221; v., 193, but fail, 
without fail; but, out; vi., 
23G, but the floor, across 
the floor out of the room, 
or to the outer part of the 
house ; but bed, before we 
sleep ; but and ben, out and 
in. 

bute [boot], help. 

butter-box, vii., 154, "Dutch- 
men." — Ritson. 

by (sometimes), beside. 

by and by, straightioay. 

byckarte,' vii., 30, moved 
quickly, rattling their weap- 

0713. 

byddys, abides. 

bydene, v., 105, all together, 
forthwith, one after the 
other? bydeene, i., 13, con~ 
tinuously, in numbers. 

byears, biers. 

byggis, builds. 

b3^gone, bedecked. 

byhet, pivmised. 

byhouys, behoves. 

byleve, i., 98, remain. 

by 11, Jialbert, battle-axe. 

byre, cow-house ; byres, byris, 
barns, cow-houses. 

b3'rnande, burning. 

bysoht, prepared for. 

bystode, 2^^''^ *"^<^ ^ plight, 
circumstanced. 

byteche, commit; by take, com- 
mitted. 

bythenche, betliink. 

ca', call, vi., 90, drive, vii., 
2G5, drive, beat ; ca'd, called, 
viii., 16, driven. 

caddie, errand-boy. 

cadgily, merrily. 

cairis, cares. 

caliver, vii., 116, large jjistol^ 
or blunderbuss. 

camovine, camomile. 



800 



GLOSSARY. 



can (pnmetimep gan), could, 
used as auxiliaries, with an 
injinitive mood, to exjrress 
the past tense of a vei-b. 

can, know ; coud, kne^o ; can 
thanke, ftel grateful {sa- 
voir (/re). 

can eel, cinnamon. 

cankerdly, loiih ill humor. 

cannel, i'i., 327. Qy. a cor- 
ruption y 

canny, cannie, knmoing, ex- 
pert, f/entle, adroitly, care- 
fully, handily, gently. 

cannilie, softly. 

cdiUieh, pieces. 

canty, merry. 

caps^ iii., 301, botch. 

capull, horse. 

carefull, anxious, sorrowful. 

carknet, necklace. 

carle, carril, carei, chiirl, fel- 
low ; carline, feminine of 
churl, old woman. 

carlish, carlist, i., 37, churl- 
ish. 

carp, cavpe, to talk, to dis- 
course, tell stories; carpit, 
talked, told stories. 

ca's, calres. 

casey, causeway. 

cast, propose, intend, planned. 

cast, trick, turn. 
vcaud, called. 

cauk, chalk. 

cauler, cool. 

cawte, cautious. 

certaine, in, certainly. 

certyl, kirtle,v., 'il, jacket, or 
waistcoat. 

cess, tax, hlack-mail. 

chaffar, chaffer, merchandise, 
commodify. 

chafts, chaps. 

chanier, chalmer, chamber. 

chanx\er'm\ fiettiny. 

chap, tap, rap ; chapp'd, 
chappit, ii., 11, tajjped, rap- 
ped ; at the chin, should 



probably be at the pin, or 

tonyue of the latch. 
charter of peace, deed of par' 

don J safe-warrant. 
cheape, chepe, n., bargain ; 

v., buy. 
chear well, v., 190, mahe good 

cheer, have a good prospect. 
cheer, chere, cow.itenance, 

face. 
cheer, entertainment. 
chefe, cheveron, upper part 

of the escutcheon. 
cheir, cheer. 
chese, cheys, choose ; chewys, 

choosest. 
chess, chace ; chessit. chased, 
chess, Jess, strap. 
cheventeyn, chieftain. 
cheverons, gloves. 
chiel, chiUl, young man, serv- 
ant. 
childer gamme, chillren's 

game. 
chitt. v., 258, worn ? 
chive iii., 2U0, mouthfuW? 
chiven, v., 405, craven f 
choice, choose. 
chot, wot, know. 
christendame, chrlstendoun, 

cliristening. 
Christendye, christentye, 

christiante, crystiante, 

Christendom. 
chulle, sl^all. 
claes, claise, clothes. 
clanked, gave a smart stroke. 
clap, fondle ; clappit, patted^ 

fondled ; clapping, fond- 
ling. 
claw, scratch, fght; claw'd, 

v., 194, scratched, curried. 
dead, clad; cleading, cleid- 

ing, eliding, clothing ; deed, 

clothe. 
clear, clere, fair, morally 

pure. 
decked, hatched. 
cleikit, caught. 



GLOSSARY. 



301 



cleir, hriglit. 

clenkyiig, clinking. 

clepyn, call. 

clerks, scholars. 

cleush, a rufjf/ed ascent. 

clink mn clMnkiim, a phrase 
for smai't bloics. 

clipping, embvacing. 

close, enclosure^ an enclosed 
field, lane. 

doss, vi., 191, area before the 
house (close). 

clouted, patched. 

coble, boat. 

cockward, cuckold. 

cod, pilloiv. 

cofer, trunk. 

coffer, coiffer, i., 260, coif, a 
ivoman's head-dress, cap? 

coft, boui/ht, redeemed. 

cog, cogne, loovden jjail, milk- 
ing-p'dl. 

coil, ii., 324, cock of hay. 

cokeney, viii. 115, "seems to 
be a diiniiuitive for cook," 
says Percy. The word 
more probal)ly denotes some 
kind of lean, or common 
meat. See Wright's note. 

cold, could, kneio ; used as an 
auxiliary with the infinitive 
to express a. past tense : e. g. 
he colli fling, Ae^MM^; cold 
bee, vii., 100, was. 

cole, coicl. 

coleyne, Collen, i., 357, col- 
layne, Cologne steel, or man- 
ufacture. 

coll, cool. 

com an, command. 

comet, Cometh; comyn, come. 

conimytted, v., 120, account- 
ed. ' 

com'nye, i., 237, communing, 
discourse. 

compiiss, circle. 

compenabull, 1., 21, sociable, 
admitting to participatinn. 

tomviibL'ile, v., 13, tou:n- 
bell. 



con, conne, see can; vi., 269, 

began. 
confound, destroy. 
conquess, conqtier. 
continaunce, countenance. 
coost, cast. 

coost, viii., 110, coosten. re- 
gion, direction. 
cor, core, corps. 
corbie, crow, raven. 
coresed, v., 62, harnessed. — 

Hal li we II . ( A gu ess V ) 
corn-caugers, curn-carriers, 

or dealers. , 

corpes. vii., 287, living body. 
cors, body. 
cors, curse. 
corss, cross. 
corynoch, lamentation for the 

dead. 
cosh, quiet. 

cost, vi., 135, loss, risk. 
cotc-a-pye, upper garment^ 

short cloak. 
coud, could, cowth, cowd, iv., 

248, could, used as an aux- 

iliarv of the perfect tense ; 

coud his curtesye, v., 76, 

could of courtesie [showed 

that he'\ imderstood good 

manners. 
could, vi., 102. began. 
counsel, counsayl, secret. 
couple, rafter. 
courtnalls, a disrespectful (?) 

name for courtiers. 
courtrie, band of courtiers. 
couth, couthe, cowtho, cowed, 

coidd, knew, understood. 
covent, convent. 
cow, clip. 
cow, twig. 
cowde dye, vii., 16, did die ; 

sec can. 
cow-me-doo, i., 171, like cur- 

doo, name for a dove, from 

its cooing, 
cowf. cowte, colt. 
cowih ring, viii., U8, had 

reigned; see can. 



502 



GLOSSARY. 



coynte, quaint, cunning. 

crabit, crabbed. 

crack, merry talk, chat. 

cracking, boasting. 

craftelike, craftily. 

craftely, skillfully. 

cramasie, crimson. 

crap, crop, yield, top; craps, 
tops. 

crapote, i., 99. Qy. cramasee, 
crimson f 

crech. creek, crutch. 

creppid, crejjt. 

creves, creiice. 

croodlin doo, cooing dove. 

crook (my knee), make lame. 
They ^ay in the North, 
"the horse crooks," i. e. 
goes lame. — Perc}'. 

crooks, the windin(jsofariver, 
the sjMtce of (/round closed 
in on one sicle by these wind- 
ings. 

cropoui-e, crupper. 

crouse, crowse, vii., 169, brisk, 
brave, bold, v., 192, merrily. 

crowdie, gruel, porridge. 

crowt, i., 12, curl up. 

cruds, curds. 

cryance, iii., 177, apparently 
for recreance, cowardice. 

cryand, crying. 

cuik, cook. 

cuist cavels, cast lots. 

cumber, to red the, quell the 
tumult. 

cummeiit, vexed, bothered. 

cuiiid hir thank, gave her 
thanks. 

cunnand, covenant, engage- 
ment. 

cunnes, kinds. 

ciirch, kerchief, coif, curches, 
kerchiffs. R. Jamieson, 
" linen caps tying under the 
chin. 

cure, vi., 214, care, pains ; i., 
279, till. 

curn, v., 191, quantity of. 

"urtall fryer, v., 272, appar- 



ently the friar toith the 

curtail [cur) dogs. 
curtass, ciirtes, courteous. 
curtel, vi.. 281, shirt, goion. 
custan, cast. 
cute, ancle. 
cutters, swaggerers, riotous 

ftllows. 
cuttit, cut. 
cuvating, coveting. 
cypress^ v., 411, gauze, crape. 

dabs, pi'icks. 

dae, doe. 

daft, mad. 

dag-durk, dagger, dirk. 

daigh, dough. 

dale, been at a, in low sjnritsi 

damasee, damson. 

dame, v., 86, mother, i. e. 

Mary. 
dandering, an epithet express- 
ing the noise of drums, like 

tantara, vii., 124. 
dandoo, vi., 245, apparently 

slioLild be dun doe. 
dane, done, taken. 
dang, beat, struck, knocked ; ii., 

301, overcome ; 361, pushed. 
dapperby, ii., 189, dapper? 
darna, daurua, dares not, dare 

not. 
dasse, des, dese, dais, raised 

2}latform. 
da lint on, daunt. 
daut, fondle, caress. 
daw, dawing, dawn, dawn- 

ing ; daws, dawns. 
de ( i'"r. ), God. 
de, dee, die ; deed, died. 
dead, deed, deid, death. 
deale. part. 

dear-boucht, dear-bought. 
dearly, dear. 
deas,' sometimes a peto in a 

church. 
decay, destruction, death j de- 

caye. iii., 132, destruction. 
dede, derdt. 
dee, do, avail: deen, done* 



GLOSSARY. 



303 



deft, neat, trim. 

deiiiht, dight, decked. 

deill, iv., 250, deal; 247, 
ddily f 

deir, iv., 2i6, frir/hten. 

dele, deW, part ; dele, iv., Hi, 
particle, bit. 

delle, 101, dally. 

deemedst, dooiaedst. 

deine, adjadije ; demed, 
deemed, adjudged. 

demean, punish, put down. 

den, hollow, small valley. 

den ay, refuse. 

dent, dynte, blow, stroke ; 
dints, blows. 

depart, ii., 124, part ; departe, 
iv., 147, separate ; depart- 
ing, 249, dividing. 

deport, viii., 274, array. 

deputed, vii., 103, used of a 
fugitive carried back for 
trial. 

deray, ruin, confusion. 

dere, harm. 

dere worthy, precious. 

dern, derne, secret, privy, re- 
tired. 

descreeve, impart. 

deserved, descHbed, related. 

desfaunce, disturbance. 

develling, viii., 142, saunter- 
ing. 

devil kyns, v., 57, deuced. 

devyse, direction. 

dey, dairy woman. 

deynteous, dainty. 

dicht, dight, dvght, vii., 61, 
furnished; 37. 189, to deth, 
dicht to deid. viii., 151, 
done or jjut to death, wound- 
ed; 150, circumstanced ; v., 
100, done; vii., 22, dispose 
of hajidle, encounter; i., 
225, placed, involved; iii., 
174, prepared for ; ii., 25o, 
kkilfuily, readily ; dyght, 
v., made ready, ready ; 
dyght ande, making ready, 
cooking. 



diel, deire. 

dight, dyght, dizt, dygzht, 
dresssed, adorned, arrayed; 
dighted, dressed, wiped. 

dight (corn), winnow. 

dill, dole, grief. 

dill, assuage, soothe. ' 

dine, dyne, dinner. 

ding, dinge, pr. dung, strike, 
knock, beat, overcome ; 
dings, bea/s ; ding down, 
dungin down, beat down, 
ocercame. 

dinna, do not; disna, does not 

dinne, noise ; i., 12, trouble. 
circumstance. 

discord, quarrel. 

discreet, civil. 

disjune, breakfast: 

disparage, iv., 157, cause to 
match unequally. 

distan, distinguish. 

distans, i., 23, dissension, 
strife. 

distra3'ne, distress. 

do, dow, vou down, take your- 
self dozen. 

doc liter, daughter. 

doddeth, vi.,' 272, lop. 

doen him, betaken him. 

doe of, duff; did off, doffed. 

doghtie, doughty. 

dole, dool, dule, grief sor- 
row, trouble, lamentation. 

d'on, do on, don. 

done, do. 

donned, viii., 105, dun. 

doo, dove. 

door, vii., 154 ? dorlach, 
which Jamieson says is a 
short sword, means a wallet. 

doubt, doubte, dont, doute, 
dought, dread, fear, dan- 
ger ; douted, redoubtable, 
feared. 

douglit, could, might, was 
able ; i., 112, may, am able. 

douk, dive. 

doiip, bottom. 

dour, hard. 



304 



GLOSSARY. 



douse, quiet, mild. 

douse, blow. 

dousse-pers (Fr. douze pairs), 

galhmt kni(jlits. 
diOutQih . fen veth. 
doutsum, duuhtfal. 
dow, can, are able, could; 

dovvna, dounae, cannot. 
dow, dove. 
dowie, mournful, doleful, sad, 

gloomy. 
do'wn-browit, scoioling. 
down-come of Robin Hood, 

vi., 242, as quick rr.s R. H. 

would knock one down ? or 

pay down ? 
doyt, do. 

doz troz, dough trough. 
drake, dragon. 
dre, dree, drie, drye, bear, 

suffer, endure; drie, vii., 

98, as noun, suffering ; 

dreed, suffered. 
drede, doubt ; dreaded, doubt- 
ed. 
dreder, dread. 
dreigh {tedious, long), high. 
drest, arranged ; iv., 247, 

placed; in dale I am so 

drest, / am so plunged in 

sorrow. 
drew up with, ii., ^i, formed 

relations of love with. 
dreynte, drowned. 
drifts, vi., 100, droves. 
drivand, driving. 
drowryis, Ivve-gift. 
drue, dry. 
drumly, drumlie, troubled, 

gloomy. 
drunk ily, merrily. 
drury, treasure. 
dryssynge, dressing. 
dryt, dirt. 

dnh, pool-pond, v., 196. 
.lucadoons, ducats? 
auere, dear. 
dulesum, dullfull, doleful ; 

dulfully, dolefully, Siully. 
lune, doke. 



dun feather and graj', bj, 
viii., 88, by a carrier pig- 
eon. 

dunt, dint, stroke ; dunted, 
beat. 

dark, dirk. 

diizty, doughty; duKtynesse, 
doughtiness. 

d wines, dwindles. 

dylite, vi., 282, dispose of. 

d\'ke, ditch or wall. 

dyne, garre, vii., 10, give o»e 
his fill of fghtinn. 

dyne, vii., 228, valley. 

dysgrate, disgraced, degraded^ 
fallen into poverty. 

ear, soon, early. 

earn, viii., 100, curdle. 

eat he, easy. 

echeon, each one. 

edicang, aid-de-camp. 

ee, e'e, eye ; eeu, ene, eyes. 

een, one. 

e'en, vi., 93, even, put in com~ 
jmi'ison ; ene, vi., 270, 
even. 

eerie, eiry, fearful, producing 
supersiitious dread ; eerie, 
iii., 273, dreary, cheerless. 

eftir syne, afterwards. 

eftsones, afterwards, here- 
after. 

eghne, eyes. 

eglis,_ eagle's. 

eik, increase. 

eil(l, age. 

elde, eldern, eldren, old. 

Eldridge, iii., 170 (Elriche, 
Elrick, etc.), ghostly, spec- 
tral; 179, hill seems to be 
omitted. 

EI (in, V. 262. Elf -land. 

eh'itch, erlish, elvish. 

elshin, shoemnker''s awl. 

enie, uncle ; emys, uncles. 

endlongis, along. 

endres-dave, i., [)^, past dayf 
other day ? See HalUwell'a 
Dictionary. 



GLOSSARY. 



305 



" Of my fortune, how it ferde, 
This endir day, as y forth 
ferde." 

eneuch, enew, enewch, enou(jh. 

enseiizie, enzie, ensi(/n. 

envye (to do), ill will, injury. 

er, ere, v., 8U, erst, before. 

erdelik, i., 275, earthly. (Fin- 
lay, "clidelik.") 

esk, newt: 

etin (Danish jette), cjiant. 

ettled, designed. 

even, exactly. 

even-cloth, i., 113, Jiiie cloth ? 

even-ower, half over. 

everlk, everuche, every ; ever- 
uchon, everychon, everyche, 
euerilkone, eveiiciione, 
ench, every one. 

evvill, vii., 229. Qy. eve, or 
vigil? 

exaltre, axle-tree. 

ey, egy. 

eylde het the, requite {thee 
for) it. 

eyr, year. 

ezer, azure. 

fa.\fdl, befall. 

fa', obtain as one^s lot; vii., 
162, share, portion ; iv., 
300? 

fach,/e^cA. 

fadge, clum?y woman. 

faem, foam, sea. 

fail, but, v., 19-i, without fail. 

fail-dyke, a wall built ofso'ls. 

Uin, faine, fayiie, ylnd, 
pleased, enamored ; faiuly, 
gladly. 

faine, desire. 

fair, fare, go ; fared, went. 

fair? St, forest. 

fairheid, benuty 

fald, viii., 148, foil, embrace. 

falla, fellow ; fallows, fel- 
lows, equals. 

hx\\e,fell; U\\yU fallen. 

fallelli, v., 114, suiteth. 

UuaLick, v., 414, madman. 



fanc}', love. 

fand", found. 

fani;, 'catch, grasp {and carry 

ojf')- 
fani;-, strap. 

fankit, entangled, obstructed, 
here, so fixed that it could 
not be drawn. 

fannes, viii., Ill, winnowing 
fans. 

farden, iii., 185, fared, ap- 
peared. 

fare, way of proceeding ; v., 
ll-i, fortune ; for all his 
frendes fare, seems to mean, 
notwithslanding the penal- 
ties suffered by his friends 
for their bad shots. 

{aver, further. 

farley, strange. 

farrow-cow, ferra-cow, a bar- 
ren cow, a cow not with 
calf. 

fa's [fa as], I have my lot as. 

fasten, vi., 21Q, plight. 

fauld, fold. 

fauld-dyke, wall of the fold. 

fault, v., 367, misfortune. 

{■A\vn,fillen. 

fawte, want. 

i&y, faith. 

fay,'vii., 219, on the verge of 
death, doomed. 

fayrse, fierce. 

fe, fee, income, property, pos- 
sessions, wages, reward^ 
money ; i., 107, rent, tribute. 

{en\e,fail. 

immi, feared. 

fear't," frightened ; feardest, 
v., 197, most frightened. 

feat, neat, dexterous, nimble. 

fecht, ficht, fight. 

feck, maist, greatest part. 

feckless, viii., 282, poor,miser' 
able. 

federed, feathered. 

fee, i., 100, animals, deer. 

feed, sime as food. 

feid, feud, enmity. 



306 



GLOSSARY. 



feind fall, the devil take. 

feingit, feigned. 

feir, vi.,' 222, sound, unhurt ; 
iv., 246, appearance, de- 
meanor. 

feirdness, cowardia. 

fel, viii., 102, 111, many ? 

fele, many. 

felischepe, v., 22, compact of 
friendship. 

fell, hill, moor, high pasture 
land. 

fell, hkle. 

fell, strange. 

ieud,fnd. 

fend,'fende, defend, defence, 
keep, support. 

ferd, \-., 10, fear; probably 
misspelt. 

fere, comrade, mate, compan- 
ion ; pi. feres, feren, feires, 
feiries. 

ferli, i., 275,/«iW2/? 

ferlie, fei-l}-, wonder, miracle ; 
wonde rful. extraordinary, 
wondeifully ; ferlich, won- 
drous. 

fernie, covered loith fern. 

ferre dayes, v., 47, ).ate in the 
day. 

ferre and frend bestad, v. G9, 
in the position of a stranger 
from a distance. 

fet, fett, fette, fetched. 

iet, fit, fothe, foot. 

\et:\n\\,fddle. 

fetteled, made ready. 

fey -fowk, iii., 48, people 
doomed to die. 

ffor. viii., 10o,fro7n, against. 

fforthi, therefore. 

ITree, noble. 

fie, jiredestined. 

fie, cattle of any kind, sheep. 

fiend, vi., U, i. e. the devil a 
thing. 

fiery-fairy, confusion and con- 
sternation. 

^iWxQn, ffth. 

61, /e«. 



fiilabeg, kilt, or short petticoat^ 

worn by Highlanders in- 
stead oj breeches. 
fin, iii., 842? 
finikin, fine. 
firm, viii., 199, first f Qy. 

corrupt, 
firstae, first ane, firstin, first- 

and, frst one, fist. 
firth, frith, an enclosed wood, 

afield within a wood. 
tit, fitt, fet, fytt, song, division 

of a song, canto, story, 

strain. 
fitches, ii., 329, flitches? 
fitted, viii., 195, di^sposed ? 
fize, i., 274, ^^re. 
flain, arrows. 
flang, flang'd,,^«w(7. 
flaps, strokes, blows. 
f[at\ies, flat. 

flatred. flattened, broken ? 
flatter'd, iii., 156, fluttered, 

floated. 
flangh, flew. 
flaw, i., 175, lie. 
fleechin, tcheedling. 
fleed, flood. 
fleer, floor. 
fleet, fliite. 
flegs, frights ; fley, fright ; 

fley'd. frightened. 
Qeych, flesh. 
flinders, fragments. 
flirry, blossom. 
flo, flone, arrow, 
^o.flay. 
flyte, scold, remonstrate ; vii., 

95, rally. 
fode, fnd, creature, child. 
fold, viii., 148, ground, world. 
Me,fulL 

fon, vi., 274, foue, ybe*". 
fimd. foolish. 
fond, try, make trial, 
iowde, found. 
fonge, t'ike up. 
forbears, ancestors. 
forbode godys, v., 30, gods 
forbott, 260, God^s prohibi' 



GLOSSARY. 



3o; 



tion; over gods forbode, 

157, on God's prohibition, 

God forbid. 
forbye, forebye, over and 

above, aside, on one side, 

beyond, ntar. 
force, fors, matter, 
torder, J'urther. 
fordoo, destroy. 
forefend, t\)rfend, forbid. 
forelianinier, the targe ham- 
mer ivhich strikes be/ore the 

small one, sledcje-hanimer. 
foremost nian, i., 158 (like 

best man), bridesman. 
foreward, covenant. 
forfaulted, forfeited. 
forfoiighen (i. e. forfoughten), 

forfozt, tired out, worn out 

withfijhting. 
forgatherit, met together. 
for god, before God. 
forlorn, forlorne, lost,forsaken, 

alone. 
forowttyn, tcithout. 
forrow, before. 
forsoyt, forsooth. 
forst, frost. 
forteynd, happened. 
forther, farther. 
forthi, therefore. 
forthynlveth, repenteth. 
forwarde, ran. 
foryete, v., 72, forgotten 
fostere, forester ; fosters of 

the fe, v., 153, foresters in 

the King'' s pay. 
fot-lome, foot-lame. 
fou, fow, fu'. full (ofdrinh) ; 

fovv, vi., 2l\), full? 
foulys, fowles, fowls, bli-ds. 
four-half, on, in quarters. 
four^ithe, four times. 
fouriigh, see fiirich. 
fowkyn, crepitus ventris. — 

Percy. 
i:a, iv., 247, from the time 

that; frae, iii., 353, frorn 

the time. 
(rae hand, forthwith. 



fraine, question. 

frame, vii., 133, succeed. 

fre, free, frie, freely, noble, 
free, Ivvttt^ ; free, i., 275, 
lord, 253, lady ; free, v., 
272, gracious, bounteous, 
vii., 20, of metal, pre- 
cious ? 

freck, freke, frevke, (A. S. 
one who is bold), warnor^ 
man. 

freits, omens. 

frem, fremmit, (rend, foi^eign, 
strange ; ferre and frend 
bestad, v., 69, in the posi- 
tion of a stranger from a 
distance. 

frese (said of bows), v., 82 ? 

f rey ry , frate rnity . 

f roVte, fruit, 

frush, brittle. 

ixxW'dy, foully. 

fun', iund, found. 

fnndyd, i., 275, went. 

fur, furrows, af arrow's length, 
furlong ; furs, furrows. 

furich, furichinish, Gaelic : 
f uirich means wait, stop : 
fearach is an old Irish war- 
cry. "Fy, furich, Whigs, 
awa' ! " was a Jacobite 
pipe air, says Chambers. 

f usome, fulsome. 

fy, iv., 260, haste. 

fyn, end. 

fynly, goodly. 

ga, gae, gang, go, going; 
gangs, goes; gaun, gang- 
ande, going ; gane, gone ; 
gaed, gade, ged, geed, gied, 
tvent ; gangua, go not. 

ga-, gall. 

gaberlunzie, a wallet ; gaber- 
lunzie-man, a man that car- 
ries a wallet, beggar. 

galis, mouths. 

gad, bar. 

gadlyngs, idle lads. 

gae-through-land, vagabond. 



308 



GLOSSARY. 



pair, ii., 354, gore, strip. See 
^are. 

gait, ficate, way, path ; f^ate, 
[., 225, v., 1U2, 196, way. 

gait, nae, noway, nowhere. 

gaits, ffoats. 

galid, i., 276, snngf 

galliards, quick and lively 
dunces. 

gane, suffice. 

gappe, viii., 106, entrance of 
the lists. 

gar, garre, cause, make, let ; 
gart, garde, made. 

gare, ii., 55, gore; apparently 
here, skirt. So, liun<j: low 
down b}-- his gair. 296, by 
the edge of his frock. The 
word seems also to be 
used vaft-uely in romances 
for cluiliing ; gare, below 
her. below the gore in the 
edge of her skirt f or below 
her dress merely?^ 

gare, i., 193, strip. 

garl, gravel. 

garste, vi., 282 (should prob- 
ably be gast), frighten 
away. 

garthes, girths. 

gaucy, iv., 76, burly, strong. 

gaveiocks (javelins), iron 
croivs. 

gear, geere, geir, goods, prop, 
erty, clothes; vi., 16, sjwiL 

gediirt, gathered. 

geere, yii., 64; ger, v., 27, 
business, affair, gear. 

gen, against. 

general, v., 290, perhaps the 
governor, Nottiiujham hav- 
ing once been a garrison 
town. — Ritson. 'Rather, 
people ; i. e. in public, with 
the rest of the world. 

genzie, enyine of war. 

gerss, girse, gresse, grass. 

gesing, i., 276, guessing; or, 
desire, A. Sax. gitsung ? 

^est, guest. 



geste, story. 

getterne gittern, kind of 
harp. 

gettyng, vii., %, plunder. 

ghesting, loilying, hospitable 
recejition. 

gie, give ; gae, gave ; gien, 
given. 

gif, gife, gin, gine, if. 

gifted, vi., 31, given away. 

gillore, plenty. 

gilt, gold. 

gin, trick, wile, snare; iii., 221, 
the device {necessary to open 
the door). 

gip, viii., 153, like gup, get 
vp, be off] etc. 

girds, lioojjs. 

gladdynge, entertaining. 

glamor, glamour, a charm ea>- 
ercised on the eye. 

gled, gladden. 

gled, kite. 

gleed, glede, a burning coal, 
a qloiuing bar of iron ; ii., 
97; blaze. 

glent, glint, gleam, glimmer^ 
(jlanced, passed swiftly. 

glided, i.. 274._ Qy. gilded ? 

gloamin', twilight, dusk, 
nifjht-fall. 

g\oom, frown. 

glore, (jlory. 

glove, vii., 121; to claim a 
glove worn as a lady's fa- 
vor was a form of chal- 
lenge, — which is perhaps 
the reference here. 

go, walk. 

god, v., 31, valuables. 

God before, God guide you ! 
God help me ! 

gods fovbott, v., 260, God's 
prohibition, God forbid. 

golett, throat, the jmrt of the 
dress or armor which cov- 
ered the throat. 

gomen, vi., 282, game, muclc- 
ery. 

gon, begun, performed. 



GLOSSARY. 



309 



gone, go; ride and go, ride 
and loalk ; fjon, went. 

good-brother, iii., G7, brother- 
in-iito. 

gorgett, iii., 246, a kerchief 
to cover the bosom. 

gornevyjoumeij. 

g-oud. gowd, (/okl ; gowden, 
golden. 

goule (Fr.), throat. 

goiipen, thehullownfthe hand 
contracted to receive any- 
thing. 

gowan, floioer. 

gowk, fool. 

gown of green, got on the, i., 
259, WHS with child. 

gowt, viii., 108, v., 109, MS. 
Ilarl , should perhaps be, 
"yf / have," etc. 

graff, v., 225, branch or sap- 
ling. 

graif, greaf, grave. 

graith, armor, caparisons ; 
graith, vvAke ready ; 
graith'd, graithed, grathed, 
graythid, made i-eady, 
armed, prepared, dressed, 
cajjarisoned ; vii., 183, laid, 
or, laid out. 

gramarye, grammar, abstruse 
or magical learning. 

grate, scratch. 

gravat, cravat ? 

gravil, i., 2f»() V 

gre, ^ree, favor, ^jrize ; gre, 
viii., 105, prize ; gree, v., 
64, satisfaction ; gree, j^ear 
the, 6oj*e the palm. 

greave, manager of a farm. 

green, yearn, long. 

^reen'd, longed. 

greet, grite, cry, weep ; grat, 
cried, wept ; greeting, 
weeping, crying. 

grevis, groves, bushes. 

grew, gray. 

gripet, seized. 

gris, a costly fur. 

grit, gryte, great, big. 



grithe, v., 16, peace, protec- 
tion, security for a certain 
time, 

grom, grome, groom, mail, 
young in<in; v. 45, a {^com- 
mon) man. 

groine, vi., 279, sorrow. 

gross, heavy. 

gryning, sprinkling. 

grype, grijin. 

grvselv, dreadfully. 

Gude,' God. 

glide-father, fathir-in-lauo. 

gude-mother, moth er-in-law, 

gude-son, son-in-law. 

guide, good. 

guided, vi., 172, treated. 

gule, red. 

gurde, struck. 

gurlie, gurly, stormy, surly ^ 
troubled. 

gyand. gyane, giant. 

gynQ, device. 

gynue, tra^. 

ha', hall. 

habershoune, coat of mail. 

hach-borde, vii., GO, 63, 68 
(MS. has in one place, 
" archborde."), seems to be 
used for the side of the ship. 

bached, inlaid, or gilded. 

had, baud, bald, hold, keep; 
baud unthought (or un- 
thocht) long, keep from 
growing weary. 

had, taken. 

had her, betook her. 

hagbutis, a kind of muskets. 

baif, have. 

baik up, iv., 33, carry off by 
force. — Jamieson. (?) 

hail, bale, whole, u'holly f 
haill, iv., 247, whole. 

haill, heill, bele, healthy, 
health ; hail, vi., 133 {vigor- 
ous, and so). boiMerous t 
haylle, vii., 10, healthy. 

hained, enclosed, surrounded 
with a hedge. 



310 



GLOSSARY. 



hairt, heart. 

halch, salute, embrace ; 
halched, hailsed, halsed, 
saluted, greeted. 

hale wen, saints. 

halfendell. half. 

half-foLi, half-iusJiel. 

halke, v., 108, holloio? 

hallow, hollow. 

hallow-days, holidays. 

Hallowe'en, i., 120, the eve 
of All-Saints day, supposed 
to be peculiary favorable 
for intercourse with the in- 
visible world, all fairies, 
witches, and ghosts being 
then abroad. 

bals, halse, base, bass, hause, 
neck. 

halt, vi., TiQ, 2^2, profits f 

halve, side. 

haly, holy. 

hambellet, amhleth. 

hame, home. 

ban, have. 

hansell, v., 23, is _ the first 
money received in a new 
shop,' or on any particular 
day. The passage seems 
to be corrupt. 

ban tie, much, great deal. 

hantyd, haunted. 

hap, "coyer, covering; happed, 
happ'd, happit, covered. 

happers, hoppers. ^ 

harbengers, harbingers, serv- 
ants that went on before 
their lor'ls during a journey 
to provide lodgings. 

hard, harde, heard. 

hardely, assuredly. 

hardilvche, boldly. 

.larneis, armor. 

harnis, barns, brains; harn- 
pan, skuU. 

barnys, viii., 110, horns. 

harowed, harried, haryed, 
berried, despoiled, plun- 
dered. 

harpit, harped. 



hart of greece a fat hart. 

hart-rote, iii., 39, a term of 
endearment, sweet-heart. 

harwos, harrows. 

hastifliche, hastily. 

bat, hit. 

hate, hate. 

haugh, haw, low ground on 
border of a river. 

haulds, v., 195', things to take 
hold of. 

haunted, resorted frequently. 

hauping, limping. 

haved, had. 

have owre, iii., 151, half over. 

haw, azure. 

hawberke. hewberke, cuirass, 
coat of mail. 

bawt, aught. 

haylde, Jiauled. 

hayt, hath. 

he, high, noble. 

he, v., 39, vi., 282, they. 

head, behead. 

head, vi., 117, assemblage. 

heading-hill, h.eidii)g-hill, be- 
heading hill. 

heal, conceal; heal'd, con- 
cealed. 

heal, health. 

heal, hnil. 

bealy, slowly, softly. 

heathennest, beathynesse, i., 
234, heathendom^ 

hech, a forcible expiration o/ 
breath as in striking a heavy 
blow. 

heck, hatch, sm'dl door. 

heckle, a hatchel, flax-comb. 

hede, held, het, heved, head. . 

bee, high. 

hegehen, eyes. 

hegh, high ; heghere, higher. 

heidit, beheaded ; heidin, be- 
heading. 

hellis-cruk, viii., 148, a crooh 
by which vessels are hung 
over the fire. 

hem, them. 

hend, hende, bendy, heynd 



GLOSSARY. 



311 



aentle. Tinndsome, courteous; 
nend, viii., 152, f/entle ; 
Aytoun reads, " haiii'd," 
sprired, saved. 

hcnt. liente, hynt, tooh, caught. 

her, their. 

herbere, arbor, orchard. 

heres, here is. 

her lane, herself alone. 

herme, hnrvi. 

hernainsell, see note p. 154, 
vii. 

herry, harry, spoil. 

hes,' hast. 

he's, he shall. 

het, hot, heated. 

het, hit, it. 

het, eat. 

hethyn, i., 107, hence. 

hett, bid. 

heugh, a ragged, steep, some- 
times, a glen with steep, 
overhanging sides. 

hi, i., 275," /. 

hi, they. 

hich, hie, high; hicher, 
higher. 

hicht, heights. 

hie, h3'-e, hyght (on), on high, 
aloud, 

high-coll'd, high-cut. 

higlit, heght, h^'glit, hyghte, 
hith, hyzt, promise, prom- 
ised, voiced, called, be 
called, are called. 

hilt, taken. 

him lane, alone ; his alone, 
alone by himself- 

hind, hinde, gentle. 

hind, i., 180, stripling; hynde, 
youth, stripling, sioain^, serv- 
ant. 

hind-chiel, young stripling. 

hindir, viii., 148, hundred. 

uing hang ; hinging, hang- 
ing ; hingers, hangings. 

hinna, have not. 

hinny, honey, darling. 

hip, the berry which contains 



the stones or seeds of the 

dogruse. 
hiplialt, lame in the hip. 
hireman chiel, man-servant. 
hirn, corner. 
hirst, a barren hill. 
his, has. 
ho, hoo, toho. 
hode, hood. 

Hogan Dutch, vii., 155? 
hold, XI., IIQ, faithful. 
holde, v., 61, retain. 
holland, hoUen, hollin, holly. 
Hollans boats, iv., 13. Qy. 

holly boats f 
holt, grove; sometimes hill; 

holtes, vii., 8, woods. 
holtis hair, iv., 250, ujjlands 

bleak. 
holy, ivholly. 
hooding o' grey, iv.,66, Ao(7- 

den-grey, cloth tcith the nat- 
ural color of the wool. 
hooly, huly, slowly, gently, 

softly. 
hope, houp, a sloping holloio 

between two hills. 
hore, hoar, hoary. 
horse-brat, horse-cloth. 
hos, us. 

hose, i., 2-38, clasp. 
hostage house, vi., 2-33, irm. 
hour, hold. 
houms howms, holms ; flat 

grounds near water. 
housbond, manager. 
houzle, givt the sicra.ment. 
hoved, vii., 9, hovered, hung 

about, tarried. 
how, ho ! 
how, pull. 
howe, holloio, valley ; hows, 

hollows, dells. 
howket, howkit, dug. 
howp, hope. 
howt, out ; heyt war howte, 

V , 23, a corrupt passage ? 
huciie, cro.fi, steep hunk. 
huckle duckle, v., 424, a term 

for a loose woman. 



312 



GLOSSARY. 



hue, they; huern, them; luiere, 
tlieir. 

huc^gell, huddle, cuddle. 

liulles, hills. 

humming?, heady. 

huut's-lia, hunting-lodge. 

husband, husbandman ; hus- 
bands, husbandmen. 

hnssy, houseioi/'e ; husyskep, 
househeeping. 

hve, in, aloft, in haste, i., 23, 
perhaps aloud; hyze, in, 
i., 20, in haste, of a sudden. 

hypped, hopjied, hobbled. 

i-bonde, bound. 

ibore, boi'n. 

ic, ich, /. 

i-chaunged, changed. 

ichuUe, [shall. 

I dern with the bot gif I daill, 

iv., 247 ; unless l secretly 

dally tvlth thee? 
i-federed, feathered. 
ifere, in fere, altogether, in 

company. 
iknoAv, known. 
ilk, ilka, ilkay, ilke, each, 

every, same ; this ilka, this 

same. 
ill-fardly, illfavoredly, uglily. 
ill-willy, ill-natured. 
inbearing, forth-putting. 
inf^le,fre. 

inn, v., 34, abode, stand. 
i-nocked, nocked, notched. 
inow, inow^.e, enough. 
in same, together. 
intent,' iv., 248, thought, 

mind. 
\ntil, intill, into, in; intill, 

iv., 83, ^lpon. 
nto, in on. 
in twnine, apart. 
in worth, iv., 205, gladly, con- 
tentedly. 
i-pyglit, jmt. 
i-qiiyt, rewarded. 
Talle, i., 99. Qy. rialle, 

royal ? 



1, his. 

i, has. 

'se, I will ; I'st, I shall. 

-sette, set. 

-slawe, slain. 

ther, each other. 
iwis, i-Aviss, i wysse, surely, 
certainly, truly ; sometimes 
seems to be ignorantly em- 
ployed for I wot, / know. 

jack, a short coat plated tcith 
small pieces of iron ; a 
leather Jacket; iii., 81, a 
coat of mail. 

jagged, pierced. 

janglour, prater. 

japes, jests, mocks. 

jaw, ii., 233, wave. 

jawes, i., 227, dashes; jawp'd, 
257, dashed, spattered; jaw- 
ing, dasliing. 

jelly, jolly, jyleasant. 

jeopardy, vi., 223, adventure. 

jess, a leather strap for a 
hawk's leg, by which it was 
fastened to the leash. . 

jetted, viii., 41, icent proudly. 

jimp, slender, neat. 

jo, sweetheart. 

jobbing, v., 374, knocking to- 
gether. 

joih', jollie, pretty, handsome^ 
ff'ay- 

jooked, bowed, made obei- 
sance. 

jouk, avoid a bloio by bending 
the body forward. 

jow, a stroke in tolling. 

jugge, vi., 271, condemn. 

JLimlit, viii., 119, stirred rap- 
idly, used of the motion of 
churning. 

kail, broth. 

kail-blade, leaf of colewort. 
kaily, cabbage like. 
kail-yanlie, kitch en-garden. 
kaini, kame, kenib, kembe, 
comb; kembing, combing. 



GLOSSARY. 



313 



ka-in, vii., 180, rent paid in 
kind; here, paid the kaiti 
is suffered sorely. 

kaithe, appear, come. 

kail, drive. 

kane, rent. 

karp, talk, relate stories. 

kavis, calves. 

kebbiick, cheese. 

keckle-pin, iii., 300, should 
be heckle-pin, the tooth of 
a hecMe or jiax-comib. 

keekit, peeped. 

keel, red ochre. 

keep, heed. 

keipand, keeping. 

kell, caul, a species of cap, or 
net-ioork, worn by women 
as a head-dress. 

keming-stock, back of a chim- 
ney grate. 

kenipes, soldiers; kemperye 
man, iii., 169, soldier-man. 

ken, knotv ; Ueiina, know not ; 
kentna, knew not; kens, 
knows; kend, kende, kent, 
knew, known. 

\iQ\>, catch ; kep'd, Z;e/)<; kep- 
pit, kepped, caught, kept. 

kepe; non odtir kepe I'll be, 
v., 15, / icill be no other 
kind of retainer, I will have 
no other relations. 

kerches, kerchiefs. 

kest, kiest, cast. 

kettrin, cateran. thieving. 

kevels, kevils, ^0^5. 

keverest, vi., 273, recoverest. 

kexis, dried stalks of hemlock. 

kid, dii^played. 

kill, kiln. 

kilt, tuck up ; kilted, tucked, 
tucked up. 

kin, kind ; kin', kind of ; 
a'kin, all kiwi. 

kind, kynde, nature, habit ; 
comynof kynde, viii., 107, 
come of a (/ood strain ? 

kindly, i., 236, " f/ood old,'' ? 
vii., 23, native horn. 



k inn en, rabbits. 

kintra, country. 

kipples, rafters. 

kirk, church. 

kirkin, churching. 

kirk-shot, see shot. 

kirn, kyrne, churn ; kymd, 

churned. 
Kirsty, Christy. 
kist, chest. 
kitche}', kitchen. 
kith, acquaintance. 
kittle flaws, variable winds^ 

i. e. not to be depended on 

for courage, 
knapscap, head-piece. 
knave, servant {boy); knave 

bairn, male child. 
kned, kneed. 
knet, knitted. 
kniciit, knight. 
knicking, iv., 110, loringing, 

so as to make snap. 
knop, a knob or swelling from 

a blow. 
knot, iii., 274, tie up. 
know, knowe, knoll. 
kniilled, vi., 272, pushed^ 

beaten {with the knuckles). 
kod, quoth. 
kunnes, kinds. 
ky, kye, cows. 
kyneriche, kingdom. 
kyne-yerde, king's toand, or 

^scejkre. 
kyrteil, kirtle, waistcoat^ 

jacket, or tunic. 
kythe, become manifest. 

lack, iii., 85, loss. 

lad, lede, lead. 

laht, caught. 

laidley, lodlye, loathly, loath- 
some ; laithliest, loathsom- 
est. 

laigli, low; laigher, lower; 
laigh, v^., 196, low ground. 

laigh-coird, low-cut. 

lain, lane, alone ; joined with 
pronouns, as, my lane (or 



314 



GLOSSARY. 



lain), his 'lane, her lane, 
their lane, myself alone, 
etc. 

lair, lear, leir, lere, learning, 
lore, doctrine, lesson ; learn, 
lear'd, learned. 

lair, vii., 239, place where 
they icere lying. 

laith, leath, loath. 

laitis, lust_v, pleasant man- 
ners. 

lake, iv., 120, reproach. 

lake, iii., 58, hollow place, 
grave f 

lambs-wool, a beverage made 
of ale arid roasted apples. 

lamer, laumer (ii., 327), am- 
ber. 

lani?, long, longer; lang, to 
think, originally, to seem 
long, then to be weary, feel 
ennui. 

langsome, tedious. 

lap, leapt ; iii., 154, sprang. 

lap, wrap up. ^ 

lapande, hipping. 

lappered, coagulated, clotted. 

lat, latten, let. 

lauch, leuch, leugh, lewche, 
leuje, lou-^he, lough, laugh, 
laughed, smiled ; lauchters, 
laughters. 

lauchters. locks. 

lauchty, viii., 1^1, pale, whitef 

launde, an oj^en place in a 
wood. 

launsgay, a hind of dart or 
javelin (a compound of 
lance, and the Arabic 
zagaye, saj's Myrick, An- 
tient Armour, etc.). 

lave, rest. 

laverock, larJc. 

law, low. 

lawe, iv., 149, custom. 

lawhvng, laughing. 

lawing, scot, tavern-reckon- 
ing. 

lax, relief, release. 

laye, iii., 180, law. 



lay gowd, embroider in gold. 

lay-land, lea-land, unjAough- 
ed, greensward. 

layne, deceive, conceal, de- 
'ception; vii., 13, break 
word. 

lea', leave. 

leace, les, lesyng, leasynge, ly- 
ing, lie ; lesse, vii., 10, Ujing. 

leafu' lawful. 

leaguer, camp. 

leal, leel, honest, true, loyal, 
chaste ; lealest, truest, chast- 
est. 

lease, leech, leash. 

leaut^, lewte, loyalty. 

leccam, likame, body. 

led, vii., 151 (of laws), car- 
ried out. 

\ede,peoj)le. 

ledes man, conductor. 

lee, lie. 

lee, lie, waste, lonely, lone- 
some, sad ; lei, ii., 132, 
lonesome. 

lee, shelter, peace ; set at lit- 
tle lee, vi., 101, left little 
peace ? " left scarcely any 
means of shelter.''^ — Jamie- 
son. 

leed, language. 

lee-lang, livelong. 

lee licht, v., 371, lonely, sad 
Ugh t. 

leese, lese, lose. 

leesome, 2)le(tsant, sioeet, ami- 
able, lovely. 

leeve, lefe, lieve, dear, pleas- 
ant ; leave, v., 395, dear. 

leeze me on, vi., i)0, I take 
pleasure or comfort in. 

leffe, i., 22, leave'? 

leif, iv., 250, live. 

lemin, gleaming. 

len, lie, iv., 308, lie concealed. 

lende, v., 113, dwell. 

lend \Q till, iv., 26, lean 
upon. 

lene, v., 58, grant; 59, lend, 

lengre, longer. 



GLOSSARY. 



315 



lent, leaned. 

lenth, len(/th, 

lere, lire, cheeh, countenance, 
face. 

lerriiin (Fr.), leave. 

lesse and more, smaller and 
greater. 

lest, list, de?>re. 

let, lett, lette, ?top, delay, pre- 
vent, hinder ; desist, omit ; 
vi., 278, ceased ; withoiiten 
lette, for a certainty ; let- 
na, let not ; lettyng, stojj- 
jnng. 

lethal, deadly. 

leuer, lever, liefer, rather. 

leve, iv., 147, remain. 

levedy, lady ; leuedys, la- 
dies. 

leven, i., Ill, lawn. 

levin, lightning. 

ley, lay, lea. 

ley - land, lea - land, not 
plough ed. 

leythe, light. 

libbe, live. 

licht, lizt, light; lichted, licli- 
tit, lighted; lichtly, light- 
ly. 

lidder, lazy. 

lidder fat, fat from laziness 
(Qy. same as leeperfat?). 

liflod, livelihood. 

lift, air. 

lift, cari^y off; lifting, steal- 
ing. 

lig, lie; liggit, lain; ligge, 
v., 332, ia\j. 

liges, lieges. 

lighter, delivered. 

ligliters. Minders. 

lightil^, lyglitly, quicUy. 

lightly, licljtly, make light of 
treat with contempt, urider- 
value ; lightlye, without 
good reason. 

■ikes, dead bodies. 

.iklie, handsome, promising. 

liltin, lilting, singing cheer- 
fully. 



lilye, vii., 23, lilly, 179, cov- 
ered with lilies f 

limmer, scoundrel, tcretch, 
rascal ; scoundrelly, mean ; 
liinmers, strumpets. 

lin, stop. 

Lincome, Lincoln; Lincum 
twine, Lincoln manufact- 
ure. 

lin'd, v., 203, beaten. 

ling, heath. 

lingcam, i., 148, body, = lee- 
cam ? 

linger, lonaer. 

link, ivalh brisMy, arm in 
arm ; linkin', Vmking, walk- 
ing quickly, riding briskly. 

linn, the pool under a cata^ 
ract. cataract. 

lintseed bow, the globule which 
contains the seed of fax. 

lirk, hollow {of a hill). 

\ht, jylease, pleased. 

litli, lyth,jom;, limb. 

lith, i., 275, sup2)le, limber. 

lithe, lytii, list, listen, heark- 
en. 

lither, naughty, lazy, wicked. 

liver, nimble. 

liverance, vii., 95, '■^ money 
for delivering ?</.>."— Percy. 

lives man, vi., 271, living 
man. 

loan, lone (in the lone, viii., 
119,) '•'■ an opening between 
felds of corn, for driving 
the cattle homeward, or 
milking coios.'" 

lodomy, laudanum. 

loft'e, love. 

lugeying, lodging. 

lokid on, v., 8, looked in at. 

long of, iv., 211, on account 
of ; longe of the, thy fault. 

longut, longed. 

loot, hollow of the hand. 

looing, loving. 

loon, clown, rascal, low fel- 
low. 

loot looten, lout, hU 



316 



GLOSSARY. 



loot, lowte, hoio ; louted, 
loutit, lowtit, bowed, bent. 

lordeyne, slu(/(/ard, clown. 

lords wyk, traitor to his lord. 

lore, loren, lost. 

lore, iv., 149, doctrine. 

losel. toorthless fellow. 

lotliely, with aversion, with 
hatred. 

loudly, vi., 124, loud. 

loun," lown, lowne, loon, 
worthless fellow. 

loup, leap, waterfall ; lope, 
loiiped, loiipen, luppen, 
leajjt. 

lourd, liefer, rather. 

low, lowe, lowz, laughed. 

low, flame. 

lowe, v., 167, a small hill. 

lown, lone. 

lowse, loose ; lowze, loosen; 
loused, lowsed, loosed. 

lucetts, vii.. 14, luces, piJres. 

lue, love; luid, loved; lude, 
iv., 246, loved. 

lugs, ears. 

luifsomely, lovingly. 

lurdane, a heavy, stupid fel- 
low. 

lust, desire. 

hives, jxdms, hands. 

lyan, tain. 

lyarde, gray horse^ horse in 
general. 

lyart, hoary. 

lygge, lay ; lyggande, lying. 

lykewake, watching of a dead 
body- 

lyle, little. 

lynde, lyne, linden, lime, tree 
in general. 

lynge, v., 10, a thin long grass 
or rush, heather. 

Ij-stnys, listen. 

lyt, (ittle, a little ichile. 

lyveray, an allowance of pro- 
visions or clothes given out 
(0 servants or retaina-s ; v., 
73, lety. 

lyztli, lies. 



ma, shame a. vi., 93, devil a 
bit. 

mae, mar, more. 

maen, maene, mane, meen, 
mene, moan, lament ; main- 
ing, moaning, crying. 

maik, make, mate; maker, 
makys, mates. 

mail), rent. 

maist, ii., 58, maistly, almost. 

makane, making. 

male, portmanteau; v., 68, 
\the horse carrying'] the 
jjortmanteau. 

manchet, the finest hind of 
white bread. 

maney, meany, meny^, 
menyie, meyn^, company, 
company of followers. 

man not, may not. 

mansworn, 23erjured. 

march-man, warden of the 
Marches. 

march-perti, vii., 40, the 
Border parts or region. 

mark, murky. 

marke hj-m to the Trenit^, 
vii., 13, commit himself to 
God by making the sign of 
the cross f marked, 14, 
fxed their eyes on, took aim 
atf 

marrit, iv., 246, marred, dis- 
ordered. 

marrow, mate, husband ; iii., 
67, antagonist, match ; mar- 
rows, equals. 

marry, Mary ; marry gep, 
apparently, Mary go up ! 

masars, v., 75, cujys, vessels. 

maste, mest, most, greatest. 

masterey, mastery, trial of 
skill, feat. 

mat, may, might. 

maugre, spite ; iv., 247, ill- 
will, blame. 

maun, must; maunna, may 
not. 

mavis, mawys, song-thrusk, 

maw, mew. 



GLOSSARY. 



317 



may, maid; maries, marys, 
maids, maidservants. 

maystry, trial of skill, feat. 

me, they (Fr. on). 

meal-pock, meal-bag. 

mear, mare. 

meatrif, abounding in provi- 
sions, 

meen, moon; meen - licht, 
moonlight. 

meisseine, viii., 195, mizzen- 
sail. 

mell, mallet. 

mell, iii., 70, milt, spleen, 

mell, meddle. 

meloude, melody. 

menji, iv., 81, many. 

mensked, i., 2~%Jionored. 

menvde, moaned. 

raenzie, many, retinue. 

inerchand, marching. 

mergh, marrow. 

merk, mirk, darTc, sad. 

merks, marks. 

merk-soot, i., 274, mark-shot, 
distance between bow-marks. 
Finlaj*. 

merr\''s, marrest. 

mese, mess, meal. 

message, messenger. 

mete, measured. 

methe, meat. 

micht, meyt, meythe, mith, 
myzt, might. 

mickle, muckle, mekle, mykel, 
mekill, micull, great, large, 
big, much. 

middle - eard, medill - erthe, 
earth, the upper world, 
placed between the nether 
regions and the sky. 

middle streame, v., 274, mid- 
dle of the stream. 

mill-capon, a poor person who 
asks charity at mills from 
those who have grain grind- 
ing. 

niillering, iii., 273, dust of the 
mill. 

min', mind. 



min', minnie, minny, mother, 
love, dear. 

mind, remember; minded, 
remembered. 

minged, iii., 178, named, men- 
tioned. 

minion, ^n^, elegant. 

minted, iii., 335, took the dU 
rection or course. 

miss, vii., 264, evil, fault, 
trouble. 

misters, v., 203, sorts of. 

mo, moe, moo, more, greater. 

moAe , passion, energy. 

modi, mody, mudie, bold, 
courageous. 

mold, molde, mould, earthy 
ground. 

Moll Syms, ii., 359, a cele- 
brated dance tune of the six- 
teenth century. 

mome, fool. 

monand, moaning. 

mone, man. 

montenans, amount. 

moodie hill, iii., 84, mole- 
hill. 

mools, mouls, the earth of the 
grave, the dust of the dead. 

more, greater; most, great- 
est. 

morning-gift, the gift made a 
wife by her husband the 
morning after marriage. 

mort, death {of the deer). 

mot, mowe, moiight, moiithe, 
moth, may, might. 

mote, meeting. 

mother -naked, naked as at 
one^s birth. 

mou, mow, mouth. 

niounde, vi., 210, might? 

mowes, mowis (mouths), 
jokes, jests. 

mude, mood, mind. 

muir, moor. 

mun, must. 

iNIuiigo, St., St. Kentigem, 

ju limit, mourned. 

muss, moss. 



318 



GLOSSART. 



tnych, much. 

niyllan, vii., 36, Milan, i. e. 
sttel or iiKinufacture. 

niylner, miller. 

inyne-allaiae, alone by my- 
~self. 

myneyeple, vii., 35, maniple 
(i. e. 7nany folds), a name 
for a close dress with sleeves 
worji under the armor. 

mysaunter, misadventure, ill 
Luck. 

rayskaryd, viii., 104, miscar- 
ried, disadvantageously dis- 
posed of. 

myster, need. 

na, nae, not ; namena, name 

not, etc. 
naggs, notches. 
nappy (of ale), strong. 
liar, nor, than. 
nare, nor. 

native, viii., 162, true-born. 
na}'', nave, denial. 
near, nere, nearer. 
neb, nose beak. 
netle, vi., 280, he had not. 
nedis base speclde, succeeded 

in what he wanted. 
nee, nigh. 
neirhand, nearly. 
neis, nose. 
neist, niest, next, nearest, 

close. 
ner, never. 
ner, ivere it not; nes, was 

not.^ 
ner; they ner, thine ear. 
neuk, vi., 224, corner? 
newf angle, i., 9 {trijling, in- 
constant), light, loose. 
next wa}', nearest way. 
vicher, nicker, neigh. 
licked, notched, cut, slashed. 
nicked of naye, iii., 162, 

denied ; slioidd be with 

nnye. 
Middart, v., 403, assailed. 
uie, neigh. 



nip, bit^' cum nips of sticks, 

v., 191, bundle of sm.all 

sticks. 
nipped, pinched. 
nixtin, next. 
nocht, not. 
nogs, stakes. 
noisome, vi., 139, annoying^ 

vexatious. 
nolden, w'ould not. 
nolles, heads. 

nombles, numbles [^the eaU 
abW], entrails. 
nome, name. 
nonie, nomen, took. 
nones, no. 
nones, nonce. 

noithen, be, to the north of. 
noth, nouth, noud, nout, nozt, 

not, nought. 
nourice, uiirice, nurse. 
nouther, noyther, neither. 
nowt, cattle. 
nuie, will not. 
nythe, vi., 275, wickedness. 

och, ochanie, intellections of 
griif. 

odd, iv., 281, old. 

odiir, other. 

o'erword, OAver-word, refrain, 
burden. 

obon, an exclamation of sor- 
row, alas. 

oh'on a ri, Gaelic, oh, my 
heart! oh' rig in di, vii., 
165? 

oht, oath. 

okerer, tisurer. 

oltrance, outrance, utterance. 

on, one. 

on, in. 

on ane, anon. 

on be thought, iii., 35, thought 
upon. 

onde, vi., 275, malice, envy, 

one, on, in. 

ones, onys, once. 

onfere, together. 

onie, any. 



GLOSSARY. 



319 



on loft, viii., 112, aloft, i. e. 
standing uj), or on horse- 
back. 

onlyve, alu^e. 

onslepe, asleep. 

00, one. 

or, ere, before. 

orfav^, i., 99, embroidery. 

Oryeiice, Orient. 

OS, us. 

other, or; viii., 110, or? 

oil, you. 

ought, owed. 

ouir, our. 

our, oure, ower, owre, oer, 
over, too; our all quhair, 
viii., 1-18, everywhere. 

ourtuk, overtook. 

out-borne, a horn blown to 
summon people to assist in 
capturing a, fugitive. 

out o' hand, at once. 

outrake, vii., 100, riding out, 
excursion. 

outspeckle, laughing-stock. 

over all, everywhere. 

over one, i., 2;J, in a company, 
togeilierf See Janiie>on's 
Scottish Dictionary, in v. 
oiier ane. 

oware, hour. 

ower great, too familiar. 

owerniaskit, overcast. 

owre, iii., 151, or, ere. 

owreturn, refrain. 

owsen, oxen. 

Owsenford, Oxford. 

owtlie, out. 

owtlay, outlaw. 

oys, grandsons. 

oysyd, used, followed. 

Pa, iii., 144. Qy. Is this a 
contraction ff pall, and is 
pall an alley or mall in 
which games of balls are 
played f 

pa', pall, a kind of rich cloth. 

pae, peacock. 

oaiks, vii., 154, drubbing. 



paines, penance. 

pairt. part. 

pallion. pallione, vii., 222, 
pavilion, tent; pi. palliones. 

palmer, pilgrim, vagabond. 

panis, pains. 

pannell, paiiele. viii., 41, 308, 
a rustic saddle, a jJad, with- 
out frame or bow. 

papeloyes, popinjays. 

paramour, viii., 148, passion- 
ately. 

parand; heir and {^arand, heir 
apparent. 

parde, perde, \)&xA^, pardieu. 

Parish, Paris. 

part, ii., 151, separate form. 

partake, viii., 212, impart, as- 
sign. 

partakers, ^erso72S to take one's 
part. 

parti, part. 

Pasche, Easter. 

pass, care. 

passe, extent, bounds, limits, 
distinct ; as the pas de 
Calais. — Ritson. 

pat, put. 

pat, /)0f ; pat-tit, pot-foot. 

pauglity, insolent. 

pautit, p)aw, beat with the 
foot. 

paw, pa', vii., 158, swift mo- 
tion; one's part in a per- 
formance, 154; of the con- 
tortioi^s of a person hanged, 
162 ; of the movement of 
weapons, 163; i)aw, neer 
play'd, vi., 84, did not stir 
hand or foot. 

pawage, paijage, pavag, toll 
for the privilege of 2)assing 
over the territory of an- 
other. 

pawky, sly. 

pav, pleasure, satisfaction 
(i., 237). 

paye, i., 104, content. 

payetrelle, i., 99 (otherwise 
patrel, poitrail, pectorale, 



320 



GLOSSARY. 



etc.), fi steel plate Jbi' the 
protection of a horse's chest. 

payrelde, apparelled. 

pearlin' gear, pearl orna- 
ments. 

pearlings, thread laces. 

peart, pert. 

peces, v., 75, vessels; unless it 
be gold pieces. 

pechmyii, jjarchment. 

peel, vi., 106, the stronghold^ 
where the cattle were keijt. 

peit, viii., 269, whij). 

pele, long - handltd baher^s 
shovel. 

pellettes, balls. 

pendles, ear-tings. 

\)eYel\e, pearl. 

■perf ay, par foi. 

perseiued, pursued. 

peruenke, periu)i7ikle. 

pestelets, pistols, fire-arms. 

philibeg, kill, or short petti- 
coat, worn by Highland- 
ers instead of breeches. 

pict, pitch. 

pike, piclc. 

pile, i., 260, doion, sometimes 
tender leaves. 

pin, summit ; gallows pin, top 
of the gallows f 

pin, door-latch. 

pinder, pounder, pound-keep- 
er. 

pine, pyne, ])ain, sorrow, 
grief, ' sufftring ; goddes 
pyne, Christ's passion. 

Pirie's chair, viii., 282 ? 

Pitlarichie, vii., 319 V 

pitten, put. 

plas, i., 19, 2}lace, palace. 

^\&t, plaited, interwove. 

\ lay-feres, playftllows. 

piCa, quarrtl. 

\)\eadis, pray ei'S, 

plight, />/e(/(/e. 

plookey, pimjjled. 

plooni, plum. 

ploo-mell, plow-mell, "a small 
wooden hammer occasionally 



fixed to theplough.^^ — Per- 
cy- 
plow, as much land as can 
jyroperly be tilled by one 
plough in a day. 

pliich, p\eugh, j^lough. 

plucke, stroke, blow ; v., 423, 
bout; plucke-buffet, 118, i3 
explained by the context. 

pluniet, vi., lb, pommel. 

ply,?t, jdight, promise. 

poer, power. 

poin'd, seized. 

poke, bag. 

polititious, politic, ingenioits. 

ipolUs, polls. 

pompous vii., 278, proudj 
magnificent. 

porcupig, porcupine. 

pot, a deep pi ce scooped in a 
rock or river-bed by the ed- 
dies. 

poterner, i., 8, pouch, purse. 
Hightly corrected by Percy 
from poterver. See pauton- 
niere, pontonaria, and pan- 
tonarius, in IlenschtVs ed. 
of Ducange. 

poll, 2^ull. 

poudurt, powdered. 

pouraille, common people. 

pra, vii., 173, brave, fine. 

prayse-folk, viii., Il4? 

prece, prese, prees, press, 
crowd ; prees, v., 65, jrress 
{of battle ) ; preced, pressed. 

preke, the pin in the centre of 
a target. . 

president, precedent. 

prest, ready, eager, quick, in 
a hurry ; v., 29, fast, zeal- 
ously ; iv., 204, ready ; 
prestly, prestlye, quickly. 

prest, priest. 

presuniaiid, presuming. 

previe, secret. 

pricked, prycked, rode smart- 
ly. 

pricke-wande, a rod set wp 
as a mark. The pride u 



GLOSSARY. 



321 



the peg in the centre of a 

target. 
priefe, prieve, pryffe, v., 430, 

prove. 
prime, pryme, six o'clock in 

the moriiing. 
prill, jnn. 
priiik'd, prinn'd, adorned, 

dresi up, made neat. 
pris, vi., 276, praise. 
pristly, earnestly. 
priving, proof. 
prcgeuy, viii., 158, descent. 
propiiie, gift. 

prude, pride ; iii., 31, proud f 
prvcker, v., 425, a galloping 

\orse. 
prye, pray. 
pLidding-i)rick, a skewer to 

fasten a [juddlng-hay. 
pure, 2^oor. 
put at the stane, throw the 

stone as a trial of strength ; 

putting-stane, the stoneused 

in this exercise. 
put down, putten down, hung, 

executed, killed; iv., 117, 

hung. 
putfalle, pitfall. 
pyght, pitched. 

quaint, acquaint. 

quair, choir. 

quat, quite, quit. 

queet, quit, ancle. 

quequer, quiver. 

quert, viii., 150, high spirits, 

hilarity. 
questry, jury. 
quey, young cow. 
queyt. qwyte, reward. 
quha, who. 
^uhair, quhat, quhy, etc., 

where, what, why, etc.; all 

quhair, everywhere. 
qv havir, whoever. 
quhilk, which. 
quliill, while, until, till; iv., 

249, until. 
\uhois, whose. 

21 



quick, alive. 

quyrry, quarry, slaughtered 

game, 
c^nyt, paid, repaid. 

ra, rae, roe. 

race, vii., 184, course. 

raches, scenting hounds. 

rack, a shallow ford, extend- 
ing to a considerable breadth 
before it narrows into a full 
stream. — Janiieson. 

rad, vi., 27, afraid. 

radde, quick, quickly. 

raid, foray, predatory incur- 
sion, fiyiit. 

raik on raw, iv., 246, range, 
or extend themselves in a 
row. 

rair, 7'oar ; rair'd, roared. 

rais, rose. 

raked, v., 196, proceeded 
leisurely, sauntered. 

raking, v., 259, 275; vii., 
242, walking hastily, run- 
ning, scouring along. 

ramp, rude, wild, violent. 

ramped, rauipit, rushed vio- 
lently, pranced about in bad 
humor. 

rank'd, vi., 25, i. e., looked 
finely, formed in ranks. 

ranshackled, ransacked. 

rant, make inerry, riot. 

rantin', boisterously gay, rol- 
licking. 

rarely, viii., 229, dear. 

rashing, strikiiig like a boar. 

rathely, quickly. 

rathere, vi., 274, sooner, be^ 
forehand. 

raton, ratton, rat. 

raught, reached. 

rauine, beasts of chase, prey. 

rauzt, reft, took away. 

rave, tore off. 

rave, bereave. 

raw, rawe, row, rank; upo' 
the raw, in rank of bat' 
tie. 



322 



GLOSSARY. 



rax, reach, stretch; vii., 265, 
beat? raxed, stretched. 

ray, prejmre. 

ray, vi., 102, path or track. 

raye, v., 84, striped cloth. 
" Cloth not colored or dyed. 
It is mentioned in many old 
statutes in contradistinction 
to cloth of color. — Ritsoii. 

reachles, rechless, careless. 

reade, rede, reede, reid, red, 
redd, advice, plan, counsel, 
advise ; i., 22, redd, ex- 
plained ; ii., 203, rede, story ; 
vii., 15, guessed. 

rear, ride the, vii., 233, nde 
behind, have the worse. 

reave, deprive ; reivis, de- 
privest of. 

reavel'd, ianr/led. 

recks, vii., 23, matters. 

record, recorde, witness; viii., 
247 ; avowal ; draw to re- 
cord, take to witness. 

red, rid, rode. 

red, viii., 119, to part {them). 

reddely, q7iickly. 

reddiiig-comb, comb for red- 
ding, or combing out the 
hair. 

reek, smoke. 

reekit, i., 299, steamed. 

reele bone, i., 99, anunknnwn 
material, of which saddles, 
especially, are in the ro- 
mances said to be made ; 
called variously, re wel-bone, 
{C<mt. TaL'S, 13,807), rowel- 
bone, riiell-bone, reuylle- 
bone ( Young Bekie, iv., 
12), royal-bone, and royal 
bane. 

reest, 7'oost. 

reet, root (viii., 141). 

refe, reif, steward, bailiff, re- 
ceiver ; pi. revues. 

Reidswire, see vi., p. 131. 

-•eif, robbery ; reve, rob, take 
by force ; reiver, riever, 
robher ; reaving, robbing. 



reil, reel. 

reme, kingdom, 

remeid, remedy. 

remeve, iv., 155, remove or 

trouble. 
remorse, viii., 164, tenderness 

of feeling. 
removde. iii., 174, stirred up. 

excited. 
remiiy, remove. 
reiiish, renisht, iii., 161, 167? 
renne, rin, ryn. run; renning, 

renninge, running; rinnes, 

runs. 
renown [Biichan], ii., 169, 

haughtiness 1 
rent, rend. 

repreve, reprove, deride. 
res, vi., 276 (Ang. Sax. raes), 

incursions, exploits f 
rescons, rescue. 
retheres hade, bullock's hide. 
reuth, rewtli, rewyth, ruthe, 

2}ity, regrets. 
revei-e, river. 
rew, re we, rue, takej^ity. 
richt, right. 
ridand, riding. 
rig, rigg, ridge; rigs, ridges,- 

rigging, ridge, top. 
riggings, vii., 154, backs f 
rigland shire, ii., 331 ? 
ring, viii., 148, reign. 
ripe, rip. 
ripe, v., 190, search ; 202, 

cleanse. 
rise on anchor, vii., 206 ? 
ritted, routed, struck. 
rive, riven. 

rived, i., 233 {arrived), trav- 
elled. 
riv't, tear it. 

rode, roode, rude, 7-ood, o^oss. 
roiss, rest. 
rok, distaff. 
roke, reek, steam. 
roof-tree, the beam which 

form.s the angle of the 

roof. 
room, iii., 217, make room. 



GLOSSARY. 



«23 



I oose, vii., 87, boast of, com 

mend. 
root, viii., 268, rout, i. e., 

stretchy or tramp f 
rost, thu carpis of cold, viii., 

110 (proverb), thou speakest 

to no purpose ? 
roudes, hagyard. 
rought, route, rowte, rout, 

hand, comjxmy, crowd. 
rouncvn, liorse. 
round claith and small, viii., 

118 V 
round tables, a game much 

jdayedin the fifteenth and 

sixteenth centuries. 
rout, blow (v., 191). 
voxiXh, plenty. 
routing, bellowing. 
rove, roof. 
row, roll, wrap ; rowd, row'd, 

rolled. 
rowe, a-, upon a row, in a 

row. 
row-footed, vi., 63, rough- 
footed i 
rowght, rout, strife. 
rown-tree, mountain-ash, 
rowynde, round. 
rudd, complexion. 
rudds, reddens. 
rue, v., 377, to cause to rue. 
ruggut, pulled violently. 
Iluniary, vi., 249 ? 
rung, staff, cud(jel ; canon's, 

figuratively. Jar shot f 
ryall, royal. 
rybaus, ribalds, villains. 
rybybe, kind of fiddle. 
ryght, vii., 7, straight. 
ryglitwys, rigliteous, just. 
rynde, vii., i'3, fayed f rinde, 

to destroy. — Halliweli's 

Diet. 
ryschys, rushes. 
rysse, rise. 
ryzt, right. 



sa, so. 
sabelliue, sable. 



sackloss, saikless, guiltless. 

sad, v., 82, firm, resolute. 

safe-guard, a riding-skirt. 

saft, vi., 65, light. 

saghe, saw. 

saht. vi., 276, at one, recon^ 
cited. 

sained, crossed, consecrated. 

sair, suit, satisfy. 

said, seld, sold. 

sail, shall ; salna, sanna, 
shanna, shall not. 

salued, (/reeled. 

same, in, together; i., 25, 
some, each. 

sanchotliis, v., 41 ? (The 
meaning is that the arrow 
went between the legs.) 

sarbit, an exclamation of sor- 
row. 

sark, serk, shirt, shift. 

sat, fitted. 

satlie, sooth, truth. 

saugh, ivillow. 

saw, sawe, saying, tale, state- 
ment, speech. 

sawtene, sought. 

sawtrye, psaltery. 

say, saw. 

say, saye, essa?/, tr?/(iii., 211). 

sayne, say. 

scaith, scath, scathe, skaith, 
hurt, harm, damage ; 
skaith'd, injured. 

scale, scatter, disperse, sjoread 
(vii., 178, 262). 

scant, lessen. 

scart, scratch. 

schane, shone. 

schapped, vii., 15, apparently 
should be "swapped ; " see 
post. 

schaw, shaw, shawe, ivood, 
thicket, grove. 

scheel, school. 

Sfhent, shamed, disgraced. 

schet, schette, ^«//o/; schoote, 
vii., 12, shot, let go. 

schill, shrill. 

scho, she. 



324 



GLOSSARY. 



Bchondir, in, asunder. 

schrevvde, sharp, 

sclo, slay. 

scort, short. 

scoup, iii., 194, go or fly. 

Bcoutli, v., 195, room, range. 

screiffe, sheriff. 

scroggs, stunted trees. 

scug, expiate. 

Bculcl, should. 

scuttle dishes, iii., 273, wood- 
en platters. 

sc, see (save and see), protect. 

seal, v., 396, Gude seal, God 
seal^ forbid ? 

sea-maw, sea-mew. 

seannacliy, genealogist, bard, 
or story-teller. 

seek, sack. 

see, vi., 277, seat, throne. 

seen, soon. 

seen, sen, senne, then since. 

se'en, seven. 

Beke, search ; v., 20, he was 
not to seke, he did not re- 
quire to be looked for. 

seker, sure, resolute. 

sekirlye, sykerlv, sykerlyke, 
certainly, truly. 

selerer, cellarer, the officer of 
a Convent that furnished 
provisions. 

selkethe, strange. 

sell, good ; sell gude, right 
good. 

selle, saddle. 

semblaunte, countenance. 

sen, send, grant; iii., 280, 
sent. ' 

send, message; ii., 334, the 
messengers sent for the bride 
at a wedding. 

sendall, a ricli, thin silk. 

sene, vii., 189, skilled, experi- 
enced. 

eenvye, mustard-seed. 

sere, soi-e. 

seres, sires, sirs. 

Berime, vi., 218, corrupt. Qy. 
beiinie. 



served, vi., 25, behaved to. 
set, suit; sets, v., 348, suits; 

iv., 105, sits,fts. 
sete, set. 
seth the, after. 
sevensimi, seven. 
sey, i., 18, v., 29, saw. 
shame a ma, vi., 93, devil a 

bit. 
share, i., 193, slip, strip. 
shathmont, i., 126 [A. Sax. 

scgeftmund], a measure 

from the top of the extend" 

ed thumb to the utmost part 

of thejxdm, six inches. 
shaw'd, showed. 
she, used of Highlanders in 

general. 
sh'ealin, iv., 66, shed for 

sheep. 
shear, vii., 30, 31, quickly, at 

once (?). — Hallivvell. 
she'as, sheaths. 
sheave, slice, 
shed by, ii., 77, parted, put 

back. 
shee, i., 166, shoe. 
sheede, spill. 
sheeld - bones, blade - bones, 

shoulder-blades. 
sheen, sheyne, bright, 
sheen, shine; sheens, shines. 
sheen, shone, shoen, schone, 

shoes. 
sheep's-silver, mica. 
sheet, shete, shoot ; shet, shot. 
sheil, shepherd's hut. 
shende, injure, blame ; shent, 

disgraced, injured, abused; 

i., 48, viii., 66, shamed. 
she'st, she shall. 
&\\e\XQ\\, furrow, ditch. 
shill, iv., 59, shrill. 
shimmerd, shone. 
shome, shame. 
shonde, disgrace. 
shonkes, shanks. 
shope, created ; iii., 39, 

shaped, assumed. 
shot, plot of land ; also, a 



GLOSSARY. 



325 



place where fishermen let 
out their nets. 

shot- window, shott-window, 
a projected, over-hanging 
window.^ 

shouthers, shoulders. 

Bhradd, v., IGO (spelt also 
shard), an opening in a 
wood. 

shrevved, v., 63, cursed, pre- 
cious ! 

shriefe, shryve, sheriff. 

shroggs, v., IG-i, shrubs, 
twigs. 

shuldis, shouldst. 

Bhun, soon. 

shurtyng, viii., 103, sport, pas- 
time, 

sic, siccan, sicken, such. 

sich, sicht, sigh ; sichin', 
sighing, sichit, sighed. 

sicht, sight. 

sicker, sickerly, sui'e, surely, 
certainly. 

side, long. 

silly, simple. 

silvervvand, vii., 100 ? 

sindie, sddom. 

sindry, iii., 30i, peculiarly. 

sinsyne, since. 

sith, sithence, since. 

six-meiinys song, song for 
six voices. 

skaith [Qy. skail ?], i., 136, 
save, keep innocent of. 

skeely, skl/ful. 

skeigh, ski/. 

skelps, blows. 

skill, but a, i., 371, only rea- 
sonable f 

skill of their {raLin, understand 
their training. 



skink, serve drink ; skinked, 

poured out. 
skinkled, sparkled. 
skomfet, discomfit. 
skumd, skimmed. 
skyll, reason, manner, mat- 
ter. 
sky sett in, i., 262, iox sunset 

or evening. 
slack, a gap or pass between 

two hills, a shallow dell^ 

morass. 
slade, valley, ravine, sti ip of 

greensward between two 

woods. 
slae, sloe (vi., 119). 
slait, j5ai>setZ across, whetted. 
slap, a narrow pass between 

two hills; iv., 96, a breach 

in a wall or hedge. 
slatred, broken, cracked. 
slawe, slain. 
slaydis, vii., 228; the passage 

is corrupt, 
slee, sly. 

sleuth-dog. blood-hound. 
slicht, slight, slichting, slight' 

ing. _ 
slist, sliced. 
slode, slid, split. 
sloe, slon, slay; slone, «?at»; 

slowen, slew. 
slogan, ///e gathering word pe- 
culiar to a family or clan, a 

war-crri. 
sloken, stake. 

slough-hounds, blood-hounds. 
sloughe, slew. 
smeek, smoke. 
smert, quickly. 
smirkling, smirking, smiling. 
smit, a clashing noise. 



1 It " meant a certain species of aperture, generally circular, 
which used to be common in the staircases of old wooden houses 
in Scotland, and some specimens of which are jet to be seen in the 
Old Town of Edinburgh. It was calculated to save glass in those 
parts of the house were light was required, but where there was no 
necessity for the exclusion of the air.'' — Chambers 

Not always certainly, since persons are sometimes said to be 
tying at the shot- window. 



326 



GLOSSARY. 



Bmore, smother ; sniored, 

smothered ; smoldereth, 

smother eth. 
Bnear, snort. 
snell, quick, keen; vii., 269, 

sharp, loud. 
snood, a band with which a 

young looman ties up her 

hair. 
so, as. 

sccht, sought. 
6c!ace, solas, recreation, sport, 

amusement. 
somers, sumpter horses. 
sonde, sendinr/ ; sonde, godes, 

God's sending. 
600t[i, soth, sotlie, suthe, soht, 

soyt, truth, troth; sothely, 

truly. 
fiorowe tyme, v., 61, sor7'y, 

bad time. 
€orray, sorrow. 
sorrow, devil a bit. 
sort, style; company, swarm 

(of bees). 
sot, viii., 247, /oo?. 
sote, soot. 

soth, i., 276, sweet. 
Soudron, Southerner, Eng- 
lish. 
sovdd, suld, should. 
soum, sowni, swim. 
soun, sound. 
sound, sw'ownd, swoon. 
souters, cobblers. 
sowie, sow (Lat. vinea, plu~ 

tens), a shed or p>ent-honse 

under cover of which the 

wdlls of a besieged town 

were assailed. 
sowkit, sucked. 
sowt, v., 40, south. 
Boy, silk. 

epait, flood, freshet, torrent. 
»pakes, spu/ces, bars. 
spar, spare, stop. 
spare, viii., 1-41, opening in a 

gown or petticoat. 
sparris, shtitst ; sparred, shut. 
"ipauld, spole, shoulder. 



speal, viii., 280, chip or shav- 
ing. Tlie sense ? 

spear, speer, epeir, spier, ask, 
ask for, ask about ; speer'd, 
speir'd, spyrred, asked. 

speed, i., 11, fire. 

speere, viii., 67, " an aperture 
in the wall, shot-window." 
Avtoun (V). 

speli ; drift can spell, iv., 267, 
tell my meaning or story. 

spence, expense. 

spendyd, vii., 96, probably 
the"^ same as spanned, 
grasped. 

ppene, vi., 272, cost. 

spercles, sparks. 

spille, spy lie, destroy, perish 

spin, run. 

splenderis, splinters. 

splene, on the, iv., 156 ? 

splent, armor. 

spreclvl'd, speckled. 

spright, sprite, spirit. 

spring, iv., 65, youth, young. 

springald, a military engine 
for discharging heavy mis- 
siles at the walls oj a be- 
leaguered town. 

sprunks, v., 378, concubines ? 

spuente, vii., 36, spirted, 
s sjorung out. 

spuilye, spulzie, despoil. 

spurne, kick; vii., 42, retalia- 
tion '? 

spyre, a post or pillar, sup- 
porting a shelf on which 
victuals are put. See Gloss. 
to Jamieson's Pop. Ball. 

sta', staw, stall. 

sta', staw, stole ; staun, stown, 
stolen. 

staf, stuff. 

stage, v., 8, story of the house. 

stain, outdo, excel. 

stalle, v., 16, j^lace in general, 
room, house. 

stalwurthlye, stoutly, boldly. 

stanc'd, stationed. 

stank, vii., Ibi, pool. 



GLOSSARY. 



327 



stap, stuff. 

Btappin', i., 148, stopping. 

ptar, see ayeyn. 

stark, stiff, strong; stark and 

stoor, iii., 254, strong and 

big ; here we may say, 

rough and rude ; starkest, 

strongest. 
start, started. 
states, iv., 1%'d, people of high 

rank. 
stead, sted, stede, stude, 

place., post. 
etean, stone. 
stear, steer, steir, stir. 
rfteek, stitch, thread; sleeking, 

stitching. 
steeked, fastened. 
slefly, thickly. 
stell'd, placed. 
stent, stint, stop : stinted, 

styntlyde, stopped. 
step-niiiinie, stepmother. 
stered. guided. 
stern li^ht, i., 112, light of 

stars. 
stert, sterte, started, rushed. 
Steven, v., 1G3, voice; 164, 

unsett Steven, a time not 

pireviously appointed. 
ste}', steep. 
stickit, iii., 139, cut the 

throat. 
stiffe, \., 2,%, strong, stout. 
stime, a particle of light. 
sto', store, a quantity. 
stock, the forepart of a bed 

farther from the wall. 
stollin, stolen. 
stont, stondis, stands. 
stood upon, v., 356, concerned, 

was worth his while. 
store, stowre, sture, i^ (155), 

big, strong, brave. 
store, set no, make no account 

of 
etots, bullocks ; stottis, oxen. 
fitoiind, stounde, hour, time. 
BtOiips, flagons. 
•tour, stower, stowre, turmoil^ 



affray; iii., 171, fght, diS' 
turbance, 

stoure, viii., 119, hurry. 

stout, ii., 300, haugltty. 

strae, stray, straw. 

gtraik, stroke ; straiked 
streaked, streek'd, stroaked 
drew. 

stralc, struck. 

stratlins, i., 183, straddlings ? 

streek, stretch, streekit, 
straught, stretched, struck 
down; streikit, laid out. 

strene, this, viii., 120, yester- 
night. 

streynthe, strength. 

strick, strict. 

strinkled, sprinkled. 

stripe, viii., 199, measure. 

striped, thrust. 

Strive! vn, Steiding. 

stroke, \'., 259, stretch ? 

strypes, strokes. 

.'?turt, vi., 138, trouble, dis- 
turbance. 

stye, v., 14, lane. 

styrande, vii., 6, see note : ac- 
cording to Percy's readine, 
driving the deer from their 
retreats ; but adopting 
Motherwell's, prancing, 
spirited. 

sty the, stead, place. 

stythe, iii., 43, sty. 

suar, vii., 35, 38, sure, trusty. 

suereth, swear ; sweirand, 
swearing. 

sugge, sny. 

suire, swyre (v., 430), neck. 

suithe, swithe, swythe, very. 

suld, should. 

sune, son. 

sunne, sin. 

suspitious, ^^ significant.''^ -^ 
Ritson. 

swa, so. 

swaird, sword. 

swakked, vii., 23, swapped, 
swapt, 15, 24, 36, struck^ 
smote. 



328 



GLOSSARY. 



swat, sweat. 

swear, oath. 

sweaven, sweren, dream. 

sweir, nif/f/ardly, unicilllng to 
part with anything. 

Bwete, viii., 103. Qy. swet^, 
siveaty f 

sweynes, vi., 272, swains, men 
in general below the rank 
of knights. 

swick, blame. 

swilled, i., 242, shook, as in 
rinsing. 

swinke, toil. 

swippyns;, striking fast, as in 
threshing. 

swipylles, viii., 112 ; " a 
swepyl is that staff of the 
fail with which the corn is 
beaten out, vulgarly a sup- 
ple." Percy : swingle. 



swither, doubt, consternation ; 



swith, quickli/. 
iht 

waver. 
swoghyne, i., 103, soughing. 
sworne into my bille, vii., 95, 

" / have delivered a prom-- 

ise in writing, confirmed by 

an oath.'" — Percy, 
swyer?, squires. 
swykedom, treachery. 
swylke, such. 
swynkers, laborers. 
syde, long. 
syen, since. 

syke, rivulet, marshy bottom, 
" ditch. 
syne^ then, afterioards, since; 

ere syne, before now. 
syth, sythen, then, since. 
gyth, times. 

tabuU dormounte, i., 19, 
standing table, the fxed 
table at the end of the 
hall (?). 

tackes, tahes. 

tackle, takle, takyll, arrows. 

tae, toe. 

taiken, tohen. 



take (often), give; take up 
(the table), clear away. 

tald, told. 

tald, vii.. 227, tallf 

talent, vii., 310, seems to be 
used for property in gen- 
eral. 

tane, tenne, taken. 

tane, one [after the]. 

tapp'd, topped. 

targats, vi., 49, tassels. 

tarpe, v., 111? 

tasse, cup. 

tate, tett (i., 109), lock (of 
hair). 

te, tee, to, too. 

tear, vii., 42, possibly the 
same as dere, injury. 

teem, empty. 

teen, teene, tene, tein, sor- 
row, (irief suffering, in- 
jury, )iarm, trouble, vexa- 
tion, loss. 

teind, tithe. 

temed, \i., 276. tamed. 

tent, tente, attention, heed; 
takis gude tente, give good 
attention to. 

tent, viii., 58, "n. kind of Ali- 
cant, a general name for 
Spanish ' loines, except 
white.'' — Halliwell. 

Termagant, an imaginary 
false god of the heathen. 

tha, then. 

thiie, those, these. 

thali, though. 

thair, there. 

than, then. 

thannes, thence. 

thar, ichere ; there, v., 106, 
where. 

thar, i., 275, it needs. 

the, thee, they. 

the, thee, thrive, prosper. 

theek, theekit, thatch, thatch' 
ed. 

thegither, together. 

then, titan. 

thenche, think. 



GLOSSARY. 



329 



ther, their. 

thes, thus. 

theynes, thanes. 

thi, the. 

think lang, thinking lon^, to 

he iceary, impatient ; thocht 

lang. thoiii^ht laiig, grew 

weary, felt ennui. 
thir, they, these, those; thir's, 

these are. 
this, thus, these. 
tho, Ihoo, those, then. 
thocht, thought. 
thoghte, seemed. 
thole, bear, endure. 
thonkes, his, vi., 283, willingly, 

gladly, by his good loill. 
thorn, iii., 339 (and thorn'd, 

ii., 335;, refreshed with 

food ? 
thoth, thouch, thouth, thouz. 

though. 
thother, other. 

thoust, thou loilt, thou shoiddst. 
thouth, thought ; i., 329, 

seemed. 
thrang, throng. 
thrang, close. 
thrast, thrust, pressed. 
thraw, ii., 302, lurithe, twist; 

thrawen, crooked; vi., 219, 

distorted, wrinkled. 
thresel - cock, thristlecock, 

throstle, thrush. 
threw, ii., 130, throve. 
thripting, thirsting. 
throly, v., 447, boldly. 
throng, hastened. 
throw, throwe, space of time, 

short time, while. 
thrubchandler, i., 237 ? 
thrumme, the extremity of a 

wearer's warp; v., 40, 

hand or belt ? 
thrustand, thrusting, pressing. 
thryes, thrysse, thrice. 
thuds, vii., 169, sound of 

blows, noises, sti^okes. 
thunche, vi., 273, seem. 
thynketh, seemeth. 



tide, tyde, time. 

t\it, puf {of wind). 

til, till,' tvU, to, on, for; til't, 

to it; till, iv , 245, to; till 

assail, -248, to assad ; till haif, 

249, to have. 
till, iii., 170, entice. 
tine, tyne, iii., 175, ?ose; tint, 

lost. 
tinkler, played the, vii., 161, 

played the coioard. 
tint, iii., 183, 227, apparently 

misused by Percy, for tine, 

lose. 
tippit, lock {of hair). 
tirled at the pin, thrild upon 

a pinn, trilled or rattled at 

the door-pin, or latch, to ob- 
tain entrance. 
tither, other. 
tithyngus, tidings. 
tittles and tattles, " clots of 

dirt such as hang on a cow's 

tail.''' 
to, two. 

to-brast, hurst in pieces. 
tocher, dowry. 
tockin, token. 
to-claterde, viii., Ill, beaten 

in (Avith noise) ? 
tod, fox. 

to-drawe, to-drowe, drawn. 
to-dryven, vi., 270, break to 

pieces ? 
to-flaterde, viii., Ill, broken 

to pieces? 
to-hande, two-hand. 
toke, committed to. 
token, vi., 277, gave to. 
tokynyng, viii., 107, token^ 

sign. 
tolbooth, prison. 
tome, tame. 
tomorne, to-morrow. 
ton, tone, the, the one. 
tone, taken. 
tooke, vii., 39, supply an 

omitted word, as " rest." 
toom, toonily, empty. 
top-castle, vii., 02, a kind of 



330 



GLOSSARY. 



turret built round the mast- 
head. 

topsail, to cast, a l-ind of 
salute. 

tortyll, v., 28, twisted. Qj. 
reading: V 

touk, tiiick, beat. 

tour, vi., 192, course or road. 

toute, i., 22; see Chaucer. 

touting, tooting. 

tow, rope. 

tow, vi., 158. throw. 

tprot, interjection of con- 
tempt. 

trattles, prattles, tattles. 

travayle, trawale, labor, voca- 
tion. 

tray, v., 81 (A. S. trega), 
I'exation. 

tvaye, i., 104, suffering. 
[dree ?] 

travne, stratagem. 

tree, staff, ivood ; iv., 3, 253, 
stick; 2}ole^ or perhaps;, 
ichippJe - tree ; 276, staff; 
vii., 220, spear - shaft f 
cudgel? / 

trenclien, v., 203, cutting. 

trepan'd, vi., 180, foully dealt 
icith. 

trestly, tridrj, cortfdenthj. 

tre-trip for hay, vii., 131 ; 
tray -trip was a game at 
dice. 

trew, true, trow, trnist. 

trews, vii., 155, trows, vii., 
156, Highhind pantaloons, 
consisting of breeches and 
stockings in one piece; here 
used for Highlanders. 

trcA'ffe, v., 32, thrive. 

triest, tryst, meeting, appoint- 
'.nent, assignation, to make 
an appointment ; trysted, 
made an appi>intment with. 

trinkling, trickling. 

trippande, tripping. 

tristil tre, v.. 7, trysty tre, 
tree of trist or meeting. 

trone, vii., 1-L3, pillory. 



trow, believe. 

trowet, troth. 

trusyd, trussed. 

tu-brugge, dra w-bridge. 

tuggut, tugged. 

tul, to. 

twa-fahl, vi., 15, two-fold, i. e. 

icitJi his body hanging down 

both sides. 
twain, twin, twinn, twine, 

part, part from, deprive of; 

twined, twinn'd, parted, 

deprived. 
twal, twtlve. 
twalt, twelfth. 
twan, twined. 
twa-some, couple. 
twatling, viii., 43, small, pid' 

dling. 
twig, twitch. 
tynde, tine, antler. 
tyte, promptly, quick. 

uch, each. 

uds-tloyns, an oath. 

ugsome, disgusting, loathsome. 

unco, strange, unknown, fo7'~ 
eign ; strangely, very. 

uncouth, unknown. 

unhappv, viii., 42, ill-condi- 
tioned,. 

unkensome, not to he recog- 
nized. 

unketh, strange, stranger. 

unUisuni, unlovely, revolting ; 
was his likanie dicht, viii., 
,150, unlovely loas the con- 
dition into which his body 
teas brought. 

unniacklye, iii., 187, un- 
shapely. 

unneath, unneth, hardly. 

unthought lang, hold, keep 
from growing weary. 

untyll, zinto. 

up, upon ; upon lofte, on high. 

upchaunce, peradventure, 
perchance. 

upgive, vi., 34, acknowledge. 



GLOSSARY. 



331 



dprichf, iv., 253, straight- 
way ? 
uttermost, outmost. 

valziant^ valiant. 

vanes, Jions. 

venerye, hunting. 

vent, we7it. 

venysoo, v., 130, deer-steal- 
ing. 

verament, truly. 

verrey, very, true. 

villanye, vilony, disgrace. 

villiche, vilely. 

virr, strength. 

vntill, unto. 

vones (wones), dwellest. 

vor, for. 

vow, exclamation of admira- 
tion or surprise (vii., 169). 

vowit, voiced. 

voyded, irent off. 

Vrenshe, French. 

xyhte,fghting. 

vylt^, disgrace. 

vytouten, without. 

wa', ivall. 

wace, wax. 

wad, wed, wid, would; wad- 

na, toonld not. 
wad, wager, forfeit (vi. 225); 

wadded, wagered, staked. 
wad, wed, wedde, pledge, de- 
posit. 
wad, i., 212, loaded. 
wadded, i., 9, woad-colored, 

blue. 
wadding, loedding. 
wae, waefu', waeful, wae- 

some, sorrowful, sad. 
wafi, weft, woof. 
wa^ed, staked. 
waif, straying. 
wait, wet, weet, wete, wot, 

know ; weets, knows ; wete, 

weten, knowing. 
waith, wandering. 
wake, watch ; waked, wauk- 

ed, watched. 



wale, walde, would. 

wale, choose, choice. 

Waleis, Wallace. 

walker, i., 10, fuller. 

wallowed, iii.,290, tvithered. 

wallow't, became pale. 

wall-wight men, i., 176, wa*- 
wight, ii., 383, well-wight, 
picked (waled), strong men, 
warriors; see vi., p. 220, 
v., 15. 

wallv fa', vi., 262, iU luck be- 
fill. 

wkly, alas, an interjection of 
lamentation. 

wame, wambe, weme, worn be, 
belly, stomach, womb ; 
weme, vii., 98, belly, hol- 
low. 

wan, palSf dark, black, 
gloomy. 

wan, come, got (viii., 91), 
reached ; wan afore, i., 255, 
came before ; wan up, got 
up; wan na in, got not in. 

wand, wandie, bough, wand, 
stick, icicker. 

wane, dwelling; v., 70; won- 
nynge wane, dwelling-place : 
wane is perhaps an error for 
hame. 

wane, iii., 221, a number of 
people ; vii., 36 ? 

wanrufe, iv., 246, disquietude. 

wantonly, iii., 82, nimbly. 

wap, wrap, tie round. 

wap, throw. 

wappit, beat, fluttered. 

war, where. 

war, wo7'se ; verb, to worsts 
overcome. 

war, ware, aware. 

waran, guaranty. 

ward, word. 

warde, ii., 35, advise, fore- 
warn. — Percy. 

warden-pies, v., 368 ; war- 
dens are large baking-pears. 

ware, vi.. Ill, lay out, use. 

ware, vi., 272 (Ang. S. were, 



332 



GLOSSARY. 



capitis oestimatio), ransom, 
life-money. 

ware of, to be, to perceive. 

warisoiie (v., 14) waryson, re- 
ward. 

wark, worJc. 

warld's maike, i., 264, com- 
IJanion for life. 

warluck, warlock, a wizard, 
a man in league with the 
devil. 

warrand, protection. 

warsled, warstled, wrestled, 
struggled. 

warstan, worst. 

warwolf, werwolf, manwolf. 

waryd, cursed. 

was, v., 25, wash. 

wast, west. 

wat, wot, know. 

wat, rvet. 

water-kelpv, a malicious spirit 
thought to haunt fords and 
ferries, especinlhj in storms, 
and to swell the icaters 
beyond their ordinary limit, 
for the destruction of' luck- 
less travellers. 

Urauf^ht, draudht. 

waukina:, tcalking. 

waur, tcorse. 

wavers, ii., 40, wanders. 

waylawaye, alas. 

waythmen, v., page ix., hunt- 
ers, sportsmen (German, 
weidniaiin). Often ex- 
plained outlaws, rovers. 

way, to the, vi., 262, awayf 

weal, vii., 41 (of hands), <o 
to ring ? 

weale, Vii., 64. Qy. weZ^? or 
good luck! The word is 
probably corrupted. 

wean, child. 

weapon-shaw, inspection of 
anus, military review. 

wear, guard. 

wearifii', weary, causing pain 
or trouble, sacl. 

webbes, weavers. 



wed, vi., 247. Qy. corrupt ? 

wed-bed, marriage-bed. 

wede, vii., 72, shorn'? 

wede, weed, caress ; wedes, 
clothes, garments. 

wee, little. 

wee, iv., 269, short time. 

weel. If ell. 

weel-busket, well trimmed. 

weel-far'd, weel-fared, weel- 
faurd, weill-faur'd, well- 
favored, fair. 

weht, what. 

weiest, i., 254 [Jamieson], 
saddest, darkest. 

weil, vi., 92, eddy ; weil-heid, 
the vortex of a whirlpool. 

weir, wer, were, war; weir- 
horse, ivar-horse. 

weir, viii., 149, were. 

weird, wierd,ya<e. 

weird, destine ; iii., 220, 
made liable to, exposed to; 
308, apparently, foretell 
that it is important. 

weirdless, unlucky. 

welde, loould. 

well, vii., 226. Qy. mell, med- 
dle orfght loiih. 

weloo, interjection of grief. 

welt, wielded, disposed of . 

wel the felle, vi., 273, loill 
fall from thy head f 

wend, go 

wend, wende, went, weened, 
thought (iv., 280). 

wenion, v., 225, curse (a 
word of unknown origin). 

weppynd, tveaponed. 

wern, r if use. 

werne, were. 

werre, icorse. 

werrv, iv., 248, xceary, sorrotO' 
ful. 

w'erryed, worried. 

wes, was. ^ 

wesch, u'ash. 

we'se, we shall or will. 

wesleyn, westlin, wesierttf 
westward. 



GLOSSARY. 



333 



vrest, wist. 

wetlier, whither. 

weylaway, well-a-dny ! 

whae's aught, wha's ancht, 
vvha is aught, who is it 
oivns? 

whang, thong. 

wliatig, slice. 

vvliareto, icherefore. 

wharf rae, whence. 

whaten, what. 

whereas, where that, where. 

whet, what. 

whether, whither. 

whew, whistle. 

whidderan, whizzing. 

whigging, moving fast, march- 
ing briskly. 

whilk, lohich. 

\v\\\\\, furze. 

whingers, "a short hanger, 
used as a Jcnife at meals and 
as a sword in broils.''^ 

white moneye, silver. 

whoard, hoard, keep. 

whorles and spindles, viii., 
101, ^'■instruments used in 
Scothnd for spinning in- 
stead of spinning-wheels.'''' 
Percv. 

vf\\o<.^, any one whatever. 

whute, whistle; whues, whist- 
lings. 

why 11, vii., 15, till. 

\vi, with. 

wiciit, wight, creature. 

wicht, wighr, wyght, strong, 
nimble, quick, agile, active ; 
wightnien (Ang. Sax. wig- 
man) fighting men, brave 
fellows; wightlye, brave- 
ly, quickly. 

•^ cker, twist, from being too 
tightly drawn. 

wicker, vi., 119, switch. 

widdifu, one who deserves to 
fll a tviddie or halter, gal- 
lows bird, rnjli m. 

wide, wyde, wade (i., I'J'J). 

'vidershias, widdershins, the 



contrary way, round about, 
the way contrary to the 
course of the sun. 

wide-whare, widely, far and 
near. 

wiel, wield. 

wigger, wicker. 

wightsmen, iii., 325, husband- 
men f 

wilder'd, carried astray. 

wilfulle, v., 16-4 (like wil- 
som), doubtful, ignorant. 

will, uncertain how to pro- 
ceed, distracted. 

win, wynn, wynne, go, get, 
get on, get to, attain, come, 
reach, arrive ; win to, at- 
tain or get to; win up, get 
up ; Avin near, come near. 

win, wynn, to make the har- 
vest ; win hay, dry or make. 

win, rescue. 

wind blows in your glove, i., 
67? 

winna, will not. 

winsome, gay, comely, pleas- 
ant, charming, attractive ; 
Avinsomely, handsomely. 

wis, vii., 214, wish. 

wisna, know not ; wistna, 
knew not. 

wit, know, knoioledge, infor- 
mation. 

wite, wvte, blame, punish, i., 
136; Iii., 317. 

withouttin, without. 

Avitted, viii., 195, endowed 
with wit ? 

wittering, information. 

witti, intelligible. 

wo, woe, woo, sad; woest, 
saddest. 

wobs, webs. 

wod, waded. 

wode, wood, mad, frantic; 
wood-wroth, mad with an- 
ger. 

wofle. irent. 

wodi-walc', woodweele, vari- 
ously explained as wood- 



334 



GLOSSARY. 



pecker, thrush, wood-larh, 

red-breast. 
wodys, woods. 
woir, worse. 
wolwarde, without linen next 

the body. 
won, wone, dwell; wons, 

dwells; wonnynge, dwell- 
ing. 
won, vi., 120, misprint for 

win ? 
woned unto the dead, vii., 

222. Qy. vowed ? devoted 

themselves to death ? 
wonig-e, i., 275 [adj. Qy. 

woning ?] dwelling. 
won up, got up ; woii up, iii., 

218, get up ; should be win 

up. 
worldling, iv., 230, petl 
worried, vii., 270, choked at ; 

worries, strangles. 
worth, worthe, be ; wae woi-th 

you, sorrow come upon you; 

woe worth, woe be to. 
worth, i., 276, become, be the 

result. 
worthy, I were, i., 2G, it toould 

become me. 
wouche, injury. 
wow, woe^ 
wow, vow. 

ivow, exclamation of admira- 
tion or surprise, astonish- 
ment or grief. 
^\oweir, wooer, suitor. 
wpe, tqj. 
wrailv,' wreck. 
wraitli, wraithe, wroth. 
wrebbe, i., 98 ; wrebbe and 

wrye, turn and twist (i., 

98). 
wrest_ and wrang, viii., 113, 

writhed and tioisted. 
wreuch, wretched. 
wrist, v., 258 ? 
writhe, tioisted. 
wrocht, wrought. 
wrolven, revenged. 
wrongous, wrong. 



wrought, i., 240, for raught, 
reached. 

wrucked up, i., 240, thrown 
up. 

wryth away, put aside. 

wud, wood. 

Wudspurs, Madspur, Hotspur. 

wuli, will. 

wull, i., 253, wandering in 
ignorance of one's course^ 
lost in error, bewildered. 

wush, washed. 

wyht, wight. 

wyld, vii., 30, seems to be 
used absolutely for deer. 

wylos, willows. 

wyndouten, wytouten, with- 
out. 

wyne-berye, grape. 

Wynne, joy. 

W3'nnit, dwelt. 

wysloUer, more zoisely. 

wyspys, loisps. 

wysse, loise. 

wystly, wistfully, intently. 

wyt, with. 

wyte, wvtte, for wot, know 
(v., 400). 

wyte, vi., 282, loait, watch f 

wyth, i., 276 (wight), agile. 

xal, xul, shall. 



yae, every. 

jurd, staff. 

yare, ready. 

yat, that. 

yate, yeate, yett, gate ; yates, 

yeats, yetts, gates. 
ybate, vi., 280 ? 
y-be, been. 
y-born, born. 
y-brend, burnt. 
y-caht, caught. 
ycha, every. 

ychon, ychone, each one, 
y-core, chosen 
v-cud, known. 



y-demed, judged. 



GLOSSARY. 



335 



y-doon, done. 

y-<\y<^ht, furnished, prepared; 
y'dylit, vi., 278, arranged. 

yeard-fast, yird-fast, Jixed in 
the earth. 

yebent, bent, 

yede, yeed, yeid, yode, yod, 
went. 

yee, eye. 

yeen, i., 274, against, fo- 
wa7'ds. 

yeersel, yourself. 

yef, yeff, if 

ye-feth, i-faith. 

Veffell, ill. 

yeft, (jift. 

yeman, yeoman; yemanrey, 
v., 22, yeomandrie, yeo- 
manry, what becomes a yeo- 
man. 

yeme, govern. 

yend, vender, yonder. 

yer, years. 

yerdes, rods, wands. 

yere, to, vi., 276, this year. 

yerlie, earl. 

yerly, early. 

ye'se, ye shall or will. 

yestreen, yesterday. 

yever, ever. 

y-found, found. 

y-herde, heard. 

yill, ale. 

yi"S) yy^Si yynge, young. 

yirne, curdle. ' 

y-kna\ve, recognize. 

y-laht, caught, taken. 



y!k, each. 

ylke, same. 

y-nemned, named. 

Vole, Yule, Christmas. 

yonder, under. 

yone, you. 

yongeth, goeth. 

yont, beyond, further off. 

young son, iii., lOu, see auld 

son. 
your lane, alone by yourself. 
y-rode, rode. 
y-sla\v, slain. 
y-snore, sworn. 
yth', in the. 
y-tuht, drawn, 
y-were, were. 

zade, zede, went. 

zare, readily, quickly, 

zatis, gates. 

ze, the. 

ze, ye ; zour, your, etc 

zechins, sequins. 

zelpe, boast. 

zemen, yeoman. 

zet, zit, yet. 

zete, eat. 

zeue, give. 

zield, yield. 

zone, yon. 

zong, zonge, zoung, young, 

etc. 
zouyn, given. 
Zule, Yule, Christmas. 
2e, ye; jede, went; jit, yet, 

etc. 



INDEX. 



INDEX. 



Thb titles by which ballads are designated in this collec- 
tion are here printed in Eoman letters; other titles, whether 
of ballads included in this collection, or not, and in general, 
all other references, in Italic. 

In looking for a title, the articles, both the definite and the 
indefinite, are to be dropped. " 0. B." denotes the often- 
referred-to Collection of 1723: "P. S." Percy Society Pub- 
lications: = signifies that two pieces are equivalent. 



Aage og Else, Danish bal. 

2, 145. 
Adara Bel, Clyra of the 

Cloughe, and Wyllyam of 

Cloudesl^. 5, 124, 1. 
Adam Gordon (the freebooter). 

6, 149: 5, xix. 
Adventures of Faravla, &c., 

Irish Fairy tale. 3, 284. 
Agnete og IJavmanden, Danish 

ballad. 1, 179. 
Alison Gross. 1, 168. 
Allerki-Rauh, German tale. 

8, 172. 
Alphonso and Ganselo (or, 

Failhful Friendsh ip) . Garl. 

G. Will, p. 60, P. S. XXX : 

0. B. 2, 145: Evans, 1, 

854. 



Als y 3'od on ay ilounday. 

1, 273, 126. 
Amadis. 1, 5, 6. 
Andrew Lammie. 2, 190. 
Annan Water. 2, 186. 
Apideius, Metam. 1, 162. 
Arabian Nights. 1, 5; '8, 54. 
Archie of Ca'field. 6,88,81. 
Arden of Feversham. Evans, 

3, 217. 

Armenian Lady's Lore, Words- 
worth's. 4, 202. 

Armstrong's Good-Night. 6, 
40. 

Armstrong and Musgrave. 8, 
243. 

Artemire, Voltaire's. 3, 243. 

As I came from Walsinghana. 

4. 191. 



340 



INDEX. 



As I was walking under a 

grove. 1, 128. 
As You Like It. 5, xxv: 8, 

144. 

Aschenpuitel, German tale. 8, 
172. 

Audam and Doorkhaunee, Af- 
ghan tale. 2, 120. 

Auld Maitland. 6, 217. 

Ausgleichung, German ballad. 
1,5. 

Bahe Nourice. 2, 40. 

Babylon, or, The Bonnie 
Banks o' Fordie. 2, 277. 

Baffled Knight. Percy, 2, 362 : 
= Too Courteous Knight, Rit- 
son, Anc. Songs, 2, 54 : Dur- 
fey, 3, 37 : = The Shepherd's 
Son, Herd, 2, 257: = Jock 
Sheep, Kh)\och, Ballad Book, 
p. 17 : = Blou) the Winds, 
Heigh Ilo, Anc. Poems, &c., 
p. 123, P. S. xvii. Bell, id. 
p. 82. 

Bailiff's Daughter of Isling- 
ton. 4, 158. 

Ballad of Matrymonie. 8, 182. 

Bandcllo. 3, 242, 370; 6, 209. 

Barbara Allen's Cruelty. 2, 
158. 

Barbara Livingston. 4, 270. 

Baron {ov Laird) o'Leijs. Bu- 
chan, 2, 144 ; Kiuloch, B. B. 
74. 

Baron of Brackley. 6, 188, 
192. 

Baron turned Ploughman. 8, 
233 



Bateman's Tragedy. 0. B. 1, 
261. Eitson, Anc. Songs, 2, 
95. 
Battle of Alford. ^ 238. 
" Balrinnes. 7, 214. 

" Bothwell Biidge. 7, 

148, 149. 
" Corichie. 7, 210. 

" Glenlivet. 7, 214. 

" Harlaw. 7, 181, 

317. 
" Killiecrankie. 7, 

152. 
« London Hill. 7, 144. 

" Otterbourne. 7, 3, 

19,29, 177. 
" Pentland Hills. 7, 

240. 
" Philiphaugh. 7,131. 

" Sherranioor {Bnrns), 

6, 157. 
" Sheriff-MuU', 7, 156, 

260. 
" Strath-aven. 7, 214, 

217. 
" Tranent-Mair, or 

Preston-Pans. 7 
167. 
Beautiful Lady of Kent. BaL 
of Peasantry, P. S. xviL 
130 ; Bell, id. 84. 
Bent Sae Brown. 2, 57. 
Bergkonungen, Swedish baL 

1, 179. 
Berkshire Lady's Garland. 
Bal. of Peasantry, P. S. 
xvii. 138; ^loore, 456. 
Bessie Bell and Mary Gray. 
3, 126. 



INDEX. 



341 



Betrayed Lady. 4, 180. 
Bedelmnn, German bal. 8, 98. 
Billie ArcLie. 6, 94. 
Binnorie. 2, 231. 
Birth of Kobin Hood. 5, 170, 

392. 
[de la] Blanca Nina^ Spanish 

ballad, ii. 319. 
Blanclieflour and Jellyflorice. 

4, 295. 

Blind Beggar's Daughter of 

Bednall Green. 4, 161. 
Blood-Stained Son {Der blu- 

iif/e Suhn, translated). 2, 

350. 
Blow the Winds, Heigh Eo=. 

Baffled Knight. 
Bludy Serk. 8, 147. 
Blue Beard, 2, 272. 
£lue Bird, fair}' tale. 1, 171. 
Bold BurneWs Daughter = 

Bonny Hynd. 
Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood. 

5, 248. 

Bold Rankin. 3, 95. 
Bondsey and Maisry. 2, 379, 

298. 
Bonnie Annie. 3, 47. 
Bonnie Banks o' Fordie. 2, 

277. 
Bonnie George Campbell. 3, 

92. 
Bonnie House o' Airly. 6, 

183, 186. 
Bonnie Lass of Anglesey. 

Herd, 2, 190: Buchan,2, 63. 
Bonnie Susie Cltland. 2, 78. 
Bonny Baby Livingston. 4, 38. 
Bonny Barbara Allan. 2, 155. 



Bonny Bee-Ho'm. 3, 57: 2, 
215. 

Bonny Birdy. 2, 22. 

Bonny Bo^s o' London. 2, 
360. 

Bonny Earl of Murray. 7, 
119, 121: 3, 88. 

Bonny Hind Squire. 8, 11, 83. 

Bonny Hynd. Scott's Min- 
strelsy, 3, 307: = Lizie Wan^ 
Herd, ed. 1776,1, 91:=7%6 
Broom blooms honnie, &c. 
Motherwell, Ixxxiv. 189: = 
Castle Ha's Daughter, Bu- 
chan, 1, 241. Also called 
Lady Jean, ilotherwell, Ap- 
pendix, p. xxi., and Bold 
Burnett's Daughter, Bu- 
chan, 1, 315. 

Bonny John Seton. 7, 230. 

Bonny May. 4, 45. 

Bothwell. 1, 158, 152. 

Bothwell Lines. 7, 149. 

Boy and the Mantle. 1, 3. 

Boyne Water. 7, 253. 

Braes o' Yarrow. . 3, 69: Lo- 
gan's, 2, 182. 

Brave Earl Brand and tho 
King of England's Daugh- 
ter. 2, 388, 114. 

Brave Lord Willoughby. 7, 
114. 

Bride's Testament = Cruel 
Brother. 

Broom blooms honnie, &c. =3 
Bonny Hynd. 

Broom of Cowdenknows. 4, 
45. 

Broomfield HiU. 1. 131. 



542 



INDEX. 



Brown Adiim. 4, 60. 
rcun Robin. 2, 9. Buchan, 
2, 299. 

Brume, brume on hil. 1, 131. 

Burd EUen. 8, 213, 205, 269. 

Burd Ellen and Young Tarn- 
lane. 1, 271. 

Burd Uelen. 3, 192. 

Burning of Auchindown, see 
Willie Mackintosh. 

By Landsdale hey ho. 5, 431. 

Camille, ou la Maniere de Jiler 
leparfait Amour. 1, 5. 

Captain Car. 6, 147. 

Captain Wedderburn's Court- 
ship. 8, 11, 5. 

Carl of Kellyburn Braes. 8, 
257. 

Carle of Carlile. 8, 140. 

Carnal and the Crane. 1, 315. 

Castle Ha^s Daughter=Bonny 
Hynd. 

Catherine Johnstone. 4, 34. 

Catskin's Garland, (or. The 
Wandering Young Gentle- 
woman.) 8, 172. 

Ce qui 2)laU aux Dames, Vol 
taire's. 1, 29. 

Cendrillon, Cennereniola. 8, 
172. 

\du] Chevalier qui fist sa Fame 
conf esse, fabliau. 6, 209. 

Chevy-Chace. 7, 43, 25. 

Chil Ether. 4, 299. 

Child Brenton. 1, 152. 

Child Noryce. 2, 40. 

Child of Elle. 3,224,220; 2, 
114. 



Child Rowland and Burd El- 
len. 1,245. 
Child Waters. 3, 205, 269. 
Childe Maurice, Chield Mct' 

ice. 2, 313, 30. 
Childe Vyet. 2, 72. 
Children in the Wood. 3, 128. 
Child's Last Will. 2, 366. 
CiJithio's Hcccatomithi. 8, 60. 
Clerk Colvill. 1,192; 2,271. 
Clerh of Oxenford's Tale^ 

Chaucer's. 4, 207. 
Clerk Saunders. 2, 45, 318, 

53, 57, 82. 
Clerk's Twa Sons o' Owsen- 

ford. 2, 63; 1,214. 
Clerk Tamas. 3, 349. 
CoTcwolds Daunce. 1, 17. 
Conde de Barcelona y la Em- 
perairiz de Alemania. 3, 242. 
Constance of Cleveland. 4 

225. 
Constancy of Susanna. 8, 198. 
Constant Penelope. 8, 207. 
Constantine and Aret^. 1, 

304, 307, 217. 
Contes a rire. 8, 3. 
Co7'n, lai du. 1, 3. 
Cospatrick. 1, 152. 
Countess of Errol, see j&TOt 
Coupe Enchantee. 1, 4. 
Cowl 3Iantel. 1, 4. 
Courteous King Jamie. 1, 147. 
Courteous Knight. 8, 272, 11. 
Covering Blue = Reach in the 

Creel. 
Crafty Lover, or, The Laioyer 
outwitted. Bell, Ball, of 
Peasantry, 110. 



INDEX. 



843 



Crafty PlougTihoy, or, The 

Highwayman outwitted. 8, 

265. 
Croodlin Doo. 2, 363. 
Cruel Black. 3, 370. 
Cruel Brother, or, Tlie Bride's 

Testament. 2, 251, 257, 265. 
Cruel Brother, Swedish bal. 

2,46. 
Ciniel Jew's Garland. 8, 46. 
Cruel Knight. 2, 291. 
Cruel Mother. 2, 267, 269, 

372, 257. 
Cruel Sister. 2, 231. 
Cunning Clerk = Keach in the 

Creel. 
Cymbeline. 8, 277. 

Daemon Lover. 1, 201, 302. 

David and Bathsheba. 8,198. 

Dead Man's Song of Heaven 
and Hell. Evans, 1, 297; 
Ritsoii, Anc. Songs, old ed., 
p. 286; Brit. BIbliog. 2,136, 
&c. 

Death of John Seton. 7, 230. 

Death ofKeeldar. 6, 140. 

Death of Parcy Reed. 6, 179. 

Death of Queen Jane. 7, 77. 

Decameron. 2, 382; 4, 207; 
6, 209. 

Demaundes Joyous. 8, 3. 

Devil and the Scold. 8, 257. 

Dialogue between Will Lick- 
Ladle and Tom Clean- 
Cogue. 7,260, 157. 

Dick o' the Cuw. 6, 67. 

Dolopathos. 8, 45. 

Donald of the Isles. 4, 68, 76. 



Doralice. 8, 172. 

Douglas, Home's. 2, 28. 

Douglas Tragedy. 2, 114; 3, 
220, 223 ; 5, 334. 

Dowie Den. 3, 65. 

Dowie Dens of Yarrow. 3, 63, 

Dragon of Wantley. 8, 128. 

Dronken Hansje. 8, 55. 

Drowned Lovers. 2, 175. 

Drunkard's Legacy, 8, 60. 

Duchess of Sufr)lk's Calam- 
ity. 7, 298, 115. 

Duel of Wharton and Stuait. 
8, 259. 

Duke Hamilton. Smith's Scot. 
Mins., 2, 58. 

Duke of ArgyWs Courtship. 
Buchan, 2, 148. 

Duke of Athol. 4, 94. 

Duke of Athol's Nurse. 8, 
228, 231. 

Duke of Gordon's Daughter. 
4, 102. 

Duke of Perth's Three Daugh- 
ters. 2, 281. 

Dumb Wife of Aberdour. Ay- 
toun, 2, 185. 

Durham Garland. Ritson, 
Bish. Gar. p. 1. 

Dysmal. 2, 382. 

Earl Crawford. Buchan, 1, 61. 
Earl Lithgow. 3, 260. 
Earl Marshal. 6,209. 
Earl of Errol, see Errol. 
Earl of Mar's Daughter. 1, 

171. 
Earl Richard (A). 3,3,10,293, 
Earl Richard (B) 3,266, 395. 



344 



INDEX. 



Earl Robert. 3, 26. 

Edda. 1,213; 8, 139. 

Edom o' Gordon. 6, 147, 154; 
7, 216. 

Edward. 2, 225, 219, 251. 

Edwin and Emma, Gold- 
smith's. 4, 189. 

Eitle Dlnye, German ballads. 

1, 128. 

Elfer mil 1, 298. 

Elfin Knight. 1, 128, 277. 

Elfvida ami Sir James of 

Perth. 3, 73. 
Elf- Woman and Sir Olof, 

Swedish bal. 1, 298. 
Ellen Irwin, Wordsworth's. 

2, 208. 

Elveskud, Danish bal. 1, 298. 

Enchanted King. 3, 53. 

Eppie jMorie. 6, 260, 203. 

Erie of Tubus. 3, 242. 

Erlinton. 3,220; 2,114. 

Errol, Earl of Errol, &c. 
Sharpe,B. B.,p. 89:=K^n- 
loch, B. B., p. 31 : = Countess 
of Errol, Buchan, 2, 176, 
and Gleanings, p. 158: = 
ErroVs Place, Maidment's 
N. C. G.,p. 31. 

Eulenspiegel. 8, 3, 4. 

Execution of Sir Simeon Era- 
ser. 6, 274. 

Facezie of Arlotto. 8, 167. 

Factor's Garland. 0. B. 3, 
221: = Sheldon, p. 274. 

FoBstemanden i Graven, Dan- 
ish ballad 2, 145. 

Fair Annie. 3, 191, 198. 



Fair Annie of Lochroyan. 2, 
98. 

Fair Flower of Northumber- 
land. 4, 180. 
Fair Helen of Kirconnell. 2, 
207. 

Fair Janet. 2, 86, 80, 120. 
Fair Mabel of WalUngton 
{=The Mild Mary) : Eit- 
son, Northumb. Garl. p. 38. 

Fair Margaret and Sweet Wil- 
liam. 2, 140, 162. 

Fair Margaret of Craignargat. 
8, 249. 

Fair Midel and Kirsten Lyle, 
Danish bal. 2, 342. 

Fair Eosaraond. 7, 283. 

Fairy Queen. 1, 5. 

Faithful Friendship, see AU 
phonso and Ganselo. 

False Sir John. 2, 271. 

[cZe?!] FalsJce Riddaren, Swed- 
ish bal. 2, 272. 

Famous Flower of Serving- 
Men. 4, 174; 3, 86. 

Farmer's Old Wife. 8, 257. 

Fause Foodrage. 3, 40, 159. 

Pause Knight upon the Road. 
8, 269. 

Fause Lover. 4, 89. 

Felon Sowe of Rokehy. Ev. 3, 
270; Moore, 187; Scoit, 
Notes to Rokeby; Robson, 
Metr. Romances, p. 105, 
Camden Soc, No. 18, etc. 

Fine Flowers i' the Valley. 2, 
257. 

Fine Flowers in the Valley. 
2, 265. 



INDEX. 



345 



Fineite Cendron. 8, 172. 

Fire of Frendraught. 6, 173. 

Fischer, Goethe's. 1, 298. 

Fitchers Vogel, German tale. 
2, 272. 

Flemish Insurrection. 6, 269. 

Flodden Field. 7, 71. 

Fhrent and the King of Sic- 
ily^ s Daughter, Gower's tale. 
1,29. 

Florice and Blanchejiour. 4, 
295. 

Flourence de Romme, Le Dit 
de. 3, 159. 

Fray of Suport. 6, 115. 

Frennet nail. 6, 177. 

Frere de Lait, Breton bal. 1, 
217. 

Friar in the Well. 8, 122. 

FrollcJcsome Courtier and Jo- 
vial Tinker. 8, 55. 

Frolicksome Duke, or, The 
Tinker's Good Foi-tune. 8, 
64. 

From Bogie Side, or, The 
Marquis's Eaide. 7, 267, 
156. 

Fryer and the Maid. 8, 122. 

Gaberlunzie ]\ran. 8, 98. 
Galien Reihore. 1, 231. 
Gallant Grahams. 7, 137. 
Gamehjn, Cook's Tale of. 5, 

XXV. 38. 
Gardener. 4, 92. 
Gay Goss-Hawk. 3, 277; 2, 

10. 
Gentle Herdsman, tell to me. 

4,187. 



Gentleman in Thracia. 8, 

158. 
Geordie, Gtordie LuTclie. 8, 

1)2, 96, 93. 
George Barnwell. 8, 213. 
Georgics. 1, 125. 
Gernutus the Jew of Venice. 

8, 45. 
Gesta Romanorum. 1, 6, 7, 

276; 8,3,45, 147, 158. 
Get up and bar the door. 8., 

125. 
Gifts from over Sea. 8, 271, 

11. 
Gight's Lady. 8, 285, 93. 
Gilderoy. 6, 196. 
Gil Morrice. 2,28. 
Girl dad in Mmise-skin, Swed- 
ish tale. 8, 173. 
Glasgerion. 2, 3. 
Glasgow Peggy. 4, 76. 
Glenkindie. 2, 8 
Glenlogie. 4, 80. 
Godiva. How Coventry teas 

made free by Godina (sic), 

Countess of Chester. Evans, 

2,29. 
Golden Glove, or, Tlie Squire 

of Tamworth. Ball, of Peas. 

P. S. xvii. 106; Bell, id. 

70. 
Golden Legend. 1, 70. 
Gowanssae gay. 1,195. 
Graeme and Bewick. 3, 77. 
Graf Hans von Holstein und 

seine Schicester Annchris- 

iine, German bal. 2, 78. 
Grandmother Adder- Cookj 

German bal. 2, 364. 



346 ' 



INDEX 



\der] Grausame Bruder, Ger- 
man ba], 2, 79. 

Green Broom-Field. 1, 136. 

Greensleeves. 4, 240. 

Greve Gewse/mjDanish ballad. 
8, 139. 

Grey CocTc. Herd, 2, 278. 

{der'\ Grobe Bruder^ German 
bal. 2, 79. 

\den\ Grymma Brodem, Swed- 
ish bal. 2, 319. 

Gude Wallace. 6, 232. 

Guy of Warwick. 1, 62. 

Gypsie Laddie. 4, 114. 

UaJcon BorTceribart, Swedish 

saga. 4, 207. 
Eardyhnute. 3, 40, 148. 
Uarpans Kraft, Swedish and 

Danish bal. 2, 8. 
Eauglis o' Yarrow. 3, 65. 
Haws of Cromdale. 7, 234. 
Hawthorn Tree. 1, 311. 
[c?er] JUeiUf/e Georg, German 

legend. 1, 70. 
Heir of Linne. 8, 60, 70. 
HelgaJcriiha Hundinysbana, H. 

1, 213. 
Ilenry and Emma, Prior's. 4, 

143. 
Ilero and Leander. 8, 207. 
Herodotus. 1, 6. 
Herr Aester ok Froken Sissa. 

Swedish bal. 1, 152. 
^err Halewyri, Dutch bal. 2, 

272. 
Eerr Malmstens Drom, Swed- 
ish bal. 2, 141. 



Rerr Medelvold, Danish bal. 

2, 342. 
Eerr Peder och Lifen Kerstin^ 

Swedish bal. 2, 125. 
Eerr Peders SJoresa, Swedish 

bal. 3, 47. 
Eerr Redevall, Swedish bal. 

2, 342. 
Eerr Salleviand, Danish bal. 

2, 120. 
Eerr Truels's Dottre, Danish 

bal. 2, 277. 
Eeriig Frojdenhorg och Fr8~ 

ken Adelin, Swedish bal. 2, 

120. 
Eertig Nils, Swedish bal. 2, 

120. 
EierarcJiie of the Blessed An- 
gels. 1, 163. 
Highwayman Oiitmtted, see 

Crafty Ploughhoy. 
Eildehrand og Eilde, Danish 

bal. 2, 115, 388. 
Eilla Lilla, Swedish bal. 2, 

120. 
Hireman Chiel. 8, 233. 
Eirlanda. 3, 243. 
Eistoire de la Comtesse de So- 

vote. 3, 242. 
Eistoire de Palanus, Comte de 

Lyon. 3, 242. 
Eistoi'ia de Cataluna. 3, 242, 
Hobie Noble. 6, 97, 67. 
Eolofernes. 8, 198. 
Eoneymoon. 8, 182. 
Eonour of a London Prentice, 

O. B. 1, 199: Fatson, An- 
cient Songs, 2, 199. 



INDEX. 



347 



Horn and RimniM, Horn et 
Rimenhlld. 1, 6; 4, 17. 

Horn of King Arthur. 1, 17, 4. 

House Carpenter. 1, 209. 

Hugh of Lincoln. 3, 136. 

Hughie Gniham (Hughie the 
Graeme). 6, 51, 55, 247. 

Hunting of the Cheviot. 7, 
25, 43. 

{det\ Ilur/ir/e Svar, Danish 
bal. 2, 319. 

Ilustru orj }rands Moder, Dan- 
ish bai. 1, 162. 

Hynd Horn. 4, 17, 25. 

Hj'nde Etin. 1, 294, 179; 2, 
271. 

m wager, Pll wager. 1, 131. 
Ill May-Day, Story of. Carl. 

Good Will, p. 39, ?. S. XV : 

0. B. 3, 54: Evans, 3, 76. 
In Sherwood livde stout Robin 

Hood. 5, 433. 
Ingefred og Gudrune, Danish 

bal. 1, 152. 

Jack Horner, Tale of. Halli- 
well's Nursery Rhymes, p. 
165, P. S. iv. 

James Herries. 1, 205. 

Jamie Douglas. 4, 287. 

Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dod- 
head. 6, 105. 

Jane Shore. 7, 194. 

Jean o' Betlulnie's Love for 
Sir G. Gordon. 4, 80. 

Jelitza and her Brothers, Ser- 
vian bal. 1, 217. 

Jelloai Grame 2, 285. 



Jephthah, Judge of Israel 8 

198. 
Jesus Bavnet, Stefan, og Hero- 

des, Danish bal. 1, 315. 
lew's Daughter. 3, 144, 331. 
Jock o' Hazeldtan, Jock o' Ha~ 

zelgreen. 4, 83. 
Jock o' the Side. 6, 80, G7 

88. 
Jock Sheep = Baffled KmglL 
Jock the Leg and the Merry 

Merchant. 8, 265. 
John Dory. 8, 194. 
John Grumlie. 8, 116. 
John o' Hazelgreen. 4, 83. 
John the Reeve. 8, 21. 
John Thomson and the Turk, 

3, 352. 
Johnie Armstrang. 6, 37, 45, 

251. 
Johnie Blunt. 8, 125. 
Johnie of Braidisbank, or of 

Breadislee. 6, 12, 11. 
Johnie of Cocklesmuir, or of 

Cockielnw. 6, 16, 11. 
Johnie Cope. 7, 274, 168. 
Jolmie Faa and the Countess 

o' Cassilis. 4, 283. 
Johnie Scot. 4, 50. 
Johny Cock, or .Johny Cox. 

6, 243, 245, 11, 12. 
Jolly Beggar. 8, 98. 
Jolly Goshawk. 3, 285. 
Jolly Harper. 6, 3. 
Jolly Finder of Wakefield, 

with Robin Hood, Scarlet, 

and John. 5, 204. 
Jomfruen i Linden, Danish 

bal. 1, 311. 



348 



INDEX. 



Tomfruen i Ormeham, Danish 

ballad. 1, 138, 168. 
Jomfruen ocf Drcergekongen 

{3fai(l rind .(he Dwarf king), 

Danish ballad. 1, 179. 
Jon Rimaardsons Sknftemaal, 

Danish ballad. 3, 47. 
Jovial Hunter of Bromsgrove. 

8, 144 
Jngement de Balemon, fabliau. 

8, 158. 
JUrg Drachenfodter, German 
, ballad. 1, 70. 

Katharine Janf?irie. 4, 29. 

Keach in the Creel. Anc. 
Poems, &c. p. 112, P. S. 
xvii : = Covering Blue, Kin- 
loch, B. B., p. Ql:^= Cunning 
Clerk, Buchan, 1, 278. 

Kempion, Kemp Owyne. 1, 
137, 143, 281. 

Kempy Kaye. 8, 139, 141. 

KerionJin\ 1, 114. 

Killiecr ankle. 7, 153. 

Kinder-u.-Hnm-Mdrchen, 1, 
201; 2,231,272; 8,3,5,175. 

Kindesmorderln, German bal- 
lads. 2, 262. 

King and a Poore Noriherne 
Man. P. S. vol. i: Moore, 
p. 376. 

King and the Barker. 8, 22. 

King Alfred and the Nealherd, 
8,21; K. A. and ike Shep- 
herd, 5, 25S; 8,23. 

King and the ITermil. 8, 21, 22. 

King and the Miller, Danish 
tale. 8, 3. 



Khig and the Miller of Mans- 
field. 8, 32. 

King Arthur, and the King of 
Cornwall, 1, 231, 183; Le- 
gend of, I, 50 ; K. A.'s 
Death, 1, 40. 

King Cophetua and the Beg- 
gar Maid. 4, 195. 

King Edward and Jane Share. 

7, 194. 

King Edward and the Hermit, 
5, xxiii : K. E. and the Shep- 
herd, 5, xxiii; 8, 21. 

King Edw?.rd the Fourth and 
the Tanner of Tamworth. 

8, 21; 5, xsiv. 

King Edward the Tliird and 
the Fair Countess of Salis- 
bury. 0. B. 2, 68. 

King Estmere. 3, 159 ; 1, 
183. 

King Henrie the Fifth's Con- 
quest. 7, 190. 

King Henry. 1, 147, 29 : 8, 
140. 

King Henry and a Bishop, 8 
5: K. H. and the Soldier, 8, 
22. 

King ffenry the Eighth and the 
Cobbler. 8, 22. 

King flenry the Second and 
the Cistercian Abbot. 8 21. 

King Horn. 4, 17. 

King James the First and the 
Tinker. 8, 22, 23. 

King John and the Abbot of 
Canterbury, 8, 3 : K. J. 
and the Bishop of Canter- 
bury, 8, 5. 



INDEX. 



349 



King Lear. 1, 245. 

King Leir and his Three 

Daughters. 7, 276. 
King Malcolm and Sir Col- 

vin. 3, 378, 173. 
King of France's Daughter. 

4,216. 
King of Scots and Andrew 

Browne. 7, 103. 
King Olfrey and the Abbot 

8,5. 
King's Disguise and Friend- 
ship with Kobin Hood. 5, 

376. 
King Waldemar and his Sister, 

Danish bal. 2, 78, 86. 
King William and the Forester. 

8, 22. 
Kinmont Willie. 6, 58, 81. 
Knight and Shepherd's 

Daughter. 3, 260. 
Knight of the Swan. 3, 159. 
Knight's Ghost. 1, 210. 
Kong Diderik og hans Kcem- 

per, Danish ballad. 3, 159. 
Kong Vakkniar og hans Soster, 

Danish bal. 2, 78, 251. 
Krist' Lilla och Ilerr Tideman, 

Swedish bal. 2, 342. 
Krone der Konigin von Afion, 

1, 16: K. of Heinrich vom 

TUrldn, 1, 4. 

ladies of Finsbury, Life and 
Dea th of the. C i o w n G a r- 
land G. Roses, p. 44, P. S. 
XV ; Evan*, 3, 318. 

Lads of Wanvpln-ay. 6, 168. 

Lady Alice 2, 162. 



Lady Anne. 2, 262. 

Lady Anne Both well's La- 
ment. 4, 123, 129. 

Lady Daisy. 2, 382. 

Lady Diamond. 2, 382. 

Lady Elspat. 4, 308. 

Lady Isabel and the Elf- 
Knight. 1, 195; 2,271. 

Lady Isabella's Tragedy. 3, 
366. 

Lady Jane. 3, 192. 

Lady Jean = Bonny Ilynd. 

Lady Maisry. 2, 78, 319. 

Lady Margaret. 3, 390, 205„ 

Lady Marjorie. 2, 338. 

Lady's Fall, Lamentable Bal- 
lad of. 0. B. 1, 244; Percy, 
3, 182; Ritson, Anc. Songs, 
2, 110. 

Lai du Corn. 1, 3. 

Lai le Frein. 3, 191. 

Laidley Worm of Spindle- 
ston-Heugh. 1, 281, 137. 

Laird o' Leys = Baron c' 
Leys. 

Laird o' Logic. 4, 109. 

Laird of Blackwood. 4, 290, 
135. 

Laird of Drum. 4, 118. 

Laird of Laminton. 4, 29. 

Laird of Lochnie. 4, 45. 

Laird of Ochiltree. 4, 45. 

Laird of Jiosliii's Daughter. 
8,11. 

Laird of Waristoun. 3, 107 
110, 316. 

Lambert Linkin. 3, 100, 94. 

Lambton Worm of Durham. 
1, 281. 



350 



INDEX. 



Lament of the Border Widow. 

3,86; 4, 174. 
Lamentable Fall of the Duch- 
ess vf Gloucester. Garl. of 

Goodwill, p. 271, P. S. xv; 

0. B. 2, 90. 
Lamentation of Shore's Wife. 

7, 194. 
Lamkin, Lammikin. 3, 94, 

307. 
Lancelot. 1, 6. 
Lang Johnny Molr. 4, 272. 
Lass of Lochroyan. 2, 106. 
Last Guid Night. 6, 40. 
Lawyer Outwitted, see Crafty 

Lover. 
Lay the Bent to the Bonny 

Broom. &, 18. 
Leander on the Bay. 2, 177. 
Leesome Brand. 2, 342 
Lenore, Biirger's. 1, 217. 
Liebesprobe, Ger. baL 4, 

144. 
Life and Death of Sir Hugh 

of the Grime. 6, 247. 
Life and Death of Thomas 

Stukely. 7, 305. 
Lilla Rosa, Swedish bal. 2, 

120. 
[<fen] Lillas Testamente, Swed- 
ish bal. 2, 366, 251. 
Litid tin Thale, German baL 

4, 144. 
Linden, Swedish b&l. 1, 311. 
Lindormen, Danish ballad. 1, 

lo8. 168. 
Liten Kerstins Fortrollning. 

1, 162. 



Liten Kerstin ocli Fru Sofia, 

Swedish bal. 2, 78. 
Liten Kerstin Stolldrang, 

Swedish bal. 4, 174. 
Little Gest of Robin Hood 

5,42, 18,376, 383; 8,22. 
Little Gold Shoe, Swedish tale. 

8, 173. 
Little John and the Four Beg- 
gars. 5, 325. 
Little ilusgrave and the Lady 

Barnard. 2, 15. 
Lizae Baillie. 4, 73, 280. 
Lizie Lindsay. 4, 63, 68, 73. 
Lizie Wan = Bonny Ilynd. 
Lochinvar. 4, 29. 
Lochmaben Harper. 6, 3, 7. 
Long Lonkin. 3, 313, 94. 
Loi-d Aboyne. 4, 97. 
Lord Barnaby. 2, 307. 
Lo7yI Bateman. 4, 1, 2. 
Lord Beichan and Susie Pye. 

4, 253. 
Lord Delaware. 7, 313. 
Lord Derwent water. 7, 164: 

L. D.'s Goodnight, 7, 165. 
Lord Dingwall. 1, 288, 152. 
Lord Donald. 2, 244, 251. 
Lord Jamie Douglas. 4, 135, 

287. 
Lord John. 1, 42, 134. 
Lord John's Murder. 2, 292. 
Lord Livingston. 3, 343; 8, 

243. 
Lord Lovel. 2, 162, 141. 
Lord Lundy. 4, 261. 
Lord Maxwell's Goodnight 

6, 162. 



INDEX. 



3ol 



Ixfrd Nann and the Korrigan, 
Brotonbal. 1, 298; 2,120. 

Lord Randal (A), 2,22: (B), 
2,248, 244. 

Lxrrd Ronald. 2, 248. 

Lord Salton and Auchana- 
chie. 2, 165, 167. 

Lord Thomas and Fair Annet. 
2, 125, 120, 131. 

Lord Thomas and Fair Elli- 
nor. 2, 121. 

Lord Thomas of Winesberry 
and the King's Daughter. 
4, 305. 

Lord Thomas Stuart. 3, 357. 

Lord Wa'yates and Auld In- 
gram. 2, 326. 

Lord William. 3,18,3. Lord 
William. 4, 261. 

Loudoun Castle. 6, 254. 

Love Gregory. 2, 98. 

Lover^s Complaint being for- 
saken of his Love. 4, 234. 

Lovers Quarrel. 4, 311. 

Lowlands of Holland. 2, 213. 

Lytell Geste of Robyn Hode. 
5,42, 18, 376,383; 8,22. 

Mackintosh was a soldier brave. 
7, 165. 

Macpherson's Rant (or La- 
ment), 6, 263: his Farewell^ 
by Burns, 6, 266. 

Miidchen und der Sagebaum, 
Mddchen und die Ilasel, Ger- 
man bal 1, 311. 

Maid and the Dioarf-King^ 
Danish ballad. 1, 179. 



Maledizione Materna, Italian 

ballad. 2, 171. 
Mantel^ Mantel Mautaillc, 
Court Mantel, &c. 1, 3, 4. 
Marchioness of Douglass. 4, 

135. 
Margaret's Ghost. 2, 141. 
Mari Confesseur, La Fon- 
taine's. 6, 209. 
Marquis of Huntley's Re- 
treat, (or The Marquis's 
Raide). 7, 267, 156. 
Marriage of Sir Gawaine. 1, 

28, 147. 
Martial. 2, 177. 
Mary Ambree. 7, 108, 257. 
Mary Hamilton. 3, 120, 324, 

329. 
Maudlin, the Merchant's 

Daughter. 4, 328. 
May-a-Row. 2, 286. 
May Colvin. 2, 271; 1, 195, 

198. 

Memorables of the Montgom- 

enes. Evans, 2, 41; Bal. 

and Songs of Ayrshire, 1, 60. 

Merchant of Venice. 8, 45, 

46, 277. 
Merchant's Daughter of Bris- 

tow. 4, 328. 
Merchants Garland, see Fac- 
tor's Garland. 
Mermaid (or Clerk Colvill). 

1, 192, 
Merman and Marstig's Daugh- 
ter, Danish bal. 1, 298. 
Mery Ballet of the Hathom 
Tre. 1, 311. 



352 



INDEX. 



Mild Mary, see Fair Mabel of 
WalUntjtun. 

Miller and the King's Daugh- 
ter. 2, 357, 231. 

Minister's Dochtero' Newark 
(or of New York). 2, 376. 

Moenpaa Baalei, Danish bal- 
lad. 2, 251. 

Moral Tale of Lave and Ron- 
our, Shenstone's. 4, 202. 

Morte Arthure. 1, 4, 40, 50, 55. 

Moiher's Malison. 2, 171. 

Moyen de Parvenir. 5, 187. 

Murder of the King of Scots. 
7,78. 

Murning Maidin. Sibbald, 1, 
201. 

Nattergalen, Danish ballad. 1, 
125. 

New Notborune Mayd. 4, 144. 

No Song, no Supper. 8, 125. 

Noble Fisherman, or, Robin 
Hnod's Preferment. 5, 329. 

Nobleman's Generous Kind- 
ness. Bal. of Peas. p. 148, 
P. S. xvii: Bell, i(Z. 98. 

Nokkens Svig, Danish, ballad. 
1, 195, 198. 

Northern Z(7ss,Brome's. 4, 123. 

Northern Lord and Cruel Jew. 
8, 277. 

Northumberland betrayed by 
Douglas. 7, 92: 6, 124. 

Numbers. 1, 6. 

Nutbrowne Maide. 4, 143. 

heard ye e'er of a silly blind 
Harper. 6, 3. 



Odyssey, i. 125. 

Of a Knight and a Faire Viv' 

gin. 1, 29. 
Of Wakefylde and a Grene. 

5, 204. 
Old Abbot and King Alfred 

0. B. 2, 55. 

Old Man and his Three Som. 

8, 144. 
Old Robin of Portingale. 8 

34. 
[den] Onde Svigermoder^ Dan- 
ish bal. 2, 251. 
Orlando Furioso, 1, 4: 0. lu' 

ainoraio, 1, 137. 
Ormekampen, Danish ballad. 

1,281; 8, 128. 
Our gudeman came hame at 

e'en. 2, 319. 
Outlandish Knight. 2, 272. 
Owen of Carron, Langhorne's. 

2, 28. 
Owlglass. 8, 3. 

Palace of Pleasure, Painter's. 

1, 5. 

Palmerin of England. 1, 5. 

Patient Countess, 4, 208; Pa- 
tient Grissel, 4, 207. 

Patranuelo of Timoneda. 
8, 3. 

Pausanias, a dragon story in. 
8, 136. 

Peau d'Ane. 8, 172. 

Pecorone. 8, 45. 

Peele's CJironicle Hist, of Ed. 
1. 6, 209. 

Pennyworth of Wit. 0. B. 2. 
215. 



INDEX. 



353 



^evcefo-'esi. 1, 5. 

Perceval. 1, 4. 

Pfalzgraf am Rliein, German 

bal. 2, 79. 
Phaffe Amis. 8, 3. 
Picture, Massinger's. 1, 5. 
Pilgrim to Compostella, South- 

ey's. 1, 315. 
Prince Edward and Adam, 

Gordon. 5, 149. 
Prince Robert. 3, 22; 2,120. 
Proelium Gillicrankiauum. 

7, 251. 
Proud Lady Margaret. 8, 83, 

11; 2,319. 
Proud Margaret, Swedish 

bal. 1, 179. 
Provost's Dochter. 4, 292, 

180. 
Pyramus and Thishe. 8, 207. 

Queen Dido. 8, 207. 
Queen Eleanor's Confession. 

6, 209, 213 ; 7, 292. 
Queen Eleanor's Fall. 7, 291 ; 

6, 209. 
Queen Jeanie. 7, 74, 77. 
Queen's Marie. 3, liS. 

RdthselUeder, German 8, 12, 

Raid of the Reidswire S, 129. 

Rantin Laddie. 4, 97. 

Rare Willy drown' d in Yar- 
row. 2, 181. 

Rauf Coikear. 8, 21. 

Ravengaard og Afemering, 
Danish bal. 3, 234, 241. 

Reading Skirmish. 7, 243. 

Red EtiJK tale of. 1, 245. 



Reedisdale and Wise William, 

8,87. 
Ribolt og Guldborg. Danish 

bal. 2, 114. 
Richie Storie. 8, 255. 
Riddar OUe, (or Olof, ) Swed- 
ish bal. 1, 152. 
Ridderen i Fugleham, Danish 

bal. 1, 171. 
Rising in the North. 7, 82; 

6, 124. 
Ritter Golmi mit der Herzo- 
gin auss Britanien, Plans 
Sachs's. 3, 242. 
Ritter St. Georg, German le- 
gend. 1, 70. 
Ritter und das Mdgdlein, Ger- 
man bal. 2, 141. 
Rob Roy. 6, 202, 257, 258. 
Robene and Makyne. 4, 245. 
Robin Hood and Allin-a- 

Dale. 5, 278. 
Robin Hood and Guy of Gis- 
borne. 5 159, 
428. 
" and his Huntes- 

men, song. 5, 
434. 
" and Little John. 

5, 216. 
" and Maid Mari- 

an. 5, 372. 
" and Queen Kath- 
erine. 5, 312. 
" and the Beggar. 

5, 187, 251, 
255, 404, 17. 
" and the Bishop 

5, 298. 



354 



INDEX. 



Robin Hood and the Bishop 
of Hereford. 
5, 294. 

" and the Butcher. 

5, 33, 17. 

« and the CurtaU 
Fryer. 5,271, 
420. 

** and the Golden 
Arrow. 5,383. 

•* and the Monk. 
5, 1, 128. 

« and the Old Man. 
5, 257. 

« and the Ped- 
dlers. 5, 243. 

«* and the Potter. 
5, 17, 33, 43, 
188, 420. 

** and the Ranger. 

5, 207. 

** and the Scotch- 

man. 5, 418. 

** and the Shep- 

herd. 5,238. 

** and the Stran- 
ger. 5, 404, 
39, 188, 418. 

** and the Tanner. 
5, 223. 

** and the Tanner's 
.Daughter. 5, 
334. 

** and the Tinker. 

5, 230. 

" and the Valiant 

Knight. 5, 338, 
808, 382. 



Robin Hood, Birth of. 5, 392, 
170. 
" Easny on. 5, vii. 

" Lytell Geste of. 

5,42. 
" Playe of. 5, 420, 

428. 
" rescuing the 
Three Squires. 
5, 267. 
" rescuing the 
Widow's Three 
Sons. 5, 261. 
R. H.'s Birth, Breeding, Val- 
our, and ]\Iarriage. 
5, 343, 125. 
" Chase. 5, 320. 
" Death and Burial. 5, 

308. 
" Delight. 5,211. 
" Golden Prize. 5,303. 
" Preferment. 5, 329. 
" Progress to Notting- 
ham. 5, 290. 
" Rescuing WiU Stut- 
ley. 5, 2S3. 
R. H. True Tale of. 5, 353. 
" Wedding of, and Lit- 
tle John. 5, 184. 
" Will Scadlock, and 
Little John. 5, 
409. 
Robyn and Gandelyn. 5, 

38. 
Robin's Tesmenf. 1, 128. 
Rofvaren Brun, R. Rymer, 

Swedish bal. 2, 272. 
Rookhope Ryde. 6, 121. 



INDEX. 



355 



Roman Charity. 0. B. 2, 137; 
Evans, 3, 296. 

Rosamond's Overthrou}, see Un- 
fortunate Conmbine. 

Rose, Lay of the. 1, 5. 

Rose the Red and White Lil- 
ly. 5, 173, 396. 

liosmer ITafmand, Danish bal. 
1, 253, 245. 

Sacchettis Novels. 8, 3. 

Saddle to Rags. 8, 2G5. 

Salomon and Saturn (or Mar- 
colf). 8,3. 

Samson. 8, 201. 

St. Cunigund, legend of. 3, 
238. 

St. George and the Dragon. 
1,69. 

St. Stephen and Herod. 1, 
315. 

Sang of the Outlaw Murray. 
6,20. 

Schloss in Oesteri'eich, Ger- 
man bal. 2, 63. 

Sckon Ulrich u. Rautendelein, 
S. U. u. Eoth-Aennchen, 
German bal. 2, 272. 

Schone Ilannele, German bal. 
1, 179. 

Scottish Squire. 3, 277. 

Seven Champions of Chris- 
tendom. 1, 83. 

Shepherds Son = Baffled 
Kni(jht. 

Silva Sermonum Jucundissimo- 
rum. 8, 116. 

[ier] Sinf/ende Knochen, Ger- 
man tale. 2,231. 



Sir Aldingav. 3, 234. 

Sir Andrew Barton. 7, 55, 

201. 
Sir Cauline. 3, 173. 
Sir Eglamore. 8, 196. 
Sir Guy, Legend of. 1, 61. 
Sir Hugh. 3, 142, 331, 335. 
Sir Hugh le Blond. 3,234, 253. 
Sir James the Rose. 3, 73. 
Sir .John Suckling's Cam- 
paign. 7, 128 
Sir Lancelot du Lake. 1, 

55. 
Sir Niel and Mac Van (or 

Glengyle). 8, 260. 
Sir Olof in the Elve- Dance, 

Swedish bal. 1, 298. 
Sir Oluf and the Elf-King's 

Daughter, Danish bal. 1, 

298, 192. 
Sir Patrick Spens. 3, 147, 

152, 338. 
Sir Peter of Stauffenberrjh and 

the Mermaid. 1, 298. 
Sir Richard Whittington's 

Advancement. 8, 165. 
Sir Roland. 1, 223. 
Sir Slicj and. Lady TorelHd, 

Danish bal. 1, 162. 
Sir Wal and Lisa Ly^e, Swed- 
ish bal. 2, 342. 
Sir William Wallace. 6, 237. 
Skjoen Anna, Danish bal. 3, 

383, 192. 
Sleeper Awakened, tale of. 8, 

54. 
Snake-Cook, German bal. ii. 

364. 
Son Davie. 2, 228, 219. 



356 



INDEX. 



Song of a Beggar and a King. 

4, 195. 
Sorgens Magt^ Swedish bal. 

2,145; 1,213. 
Sovneruntrne^ Danish bal. 1, 

131. 
Spanish Lady's Love. 4, 201. 
Spanish Virgin. 3, 360. 
Speculum Ecdesice. 8, 21. 
Speculum Ilistoriale. 1, 70, 315. 
Squire of Tamworih, see 

Golden Glove. 
Staffrms Visa, Swedish carol. 

1, 315. 
Stejjmother, German bal. 2, 

864. 
Stall Ingeborgs Forkkedning, 

Danish bal. 4, 174. 
Siolts Bolelid Stalldrang, 

Swedish bal. 4, 174. 
Stout Crijjjjle of Cornwall. 

Evans, 1, 97. 
Stukely, Life and Death of 

Thomas. 7, 305. 
Siideli, German baL 3, 191. 
Suffolk Miracle. 1, 217. 
Seen i Rusengard, Swedish 

bal. 2, 347, 219. 
Sven Svanehvit, Swedish bal. 

8, 12. 
Svend Vonved, Danish bal. 

3, 159; 8, 11. 
Sweet Sung of an English Mer- 
chant. Evans, 1, 28. 
Sweet William. 4, 261, 29. 
Sweet William and Mav Mar- 
garet. 2, 152, 45. 
Sweet William's Ghost. 2, 

145 45. 



Sweet Willie (a). 2, 93» 80; 

(b), 4, 174. 
Sweet WUlie and Fair Annie. 

2, 131. 
Sweet Willie and Fair Mais- 

ry. 2,332,86. 
Sweet Willie and Lady Mar- 

gerie. 2, 53. 

[den] Talende Strengeleg, 
Danish baL 2, 231. 

Tarikh al Wasaf. 8, 167. 

Tam-;\-Line. 1, 258. 

Taming of a Shrew. 8, 182, 
55. 

Tancred and Ghismonda. 2, 
382. 

Tancrede, Voltaire's. 3, 242. 

Thorn of Lyn. 1, 114. 

Thomas of Ersseldoune. 1, 
95, 120, 273. 

Thomas the Rhymer. 1, 109, 
120. 

Thore och hans Sijster, Swed- 
ish baL 2, 319. 

Thorkil Troneson, Swedish 
bal. 1, 152. 

Th7'ee Brothers. 6, 94. 

Three Knights. 2, 368. 

Three Ravens. 3, 59. 

Three Sisters. 8, 18. 

Tinker's Good Fortune, see 
Frolicksome Duke. 

Titus and Gisippus. 4, 225. 

Titus Andronicus's Com- 
plaint. 8, 188. 

Tobias. 8, 198. 

[der] Toate Freier, German 
bal. 2, 145. 



TNIjeX. 



357 



rodtenheTTidchen, German tale. 
1, 213. 

Tom Linn. 1, 267. 

Tom Thwnbe, Life ami Death 
of. Ritson's Auc. Pop. Po- 
etry, p. 111. 

Too O'urteous Kniffht = Baf- 
fled Knight. 

Tord af Hnvsgaard^ Danish 
bal. 8, 139. 

Torkild Trundeson, Danish 
and Swedish bal. 1, 152. 

Tristan. 1,4, 152; 2, 119. 

Trooper and Fair Maid. 1, 
128. 

True Tale of Robin Hood. 5, 
353. 

Trumpeter of Fyvie. 2, 
201. 

furnaraent of Totenhara. 8. 
101. 

Twa Brothers. 2, 219, 353. 

Twa Corbies. 3, 61. 

Twa Sisters. 2, 238. 

Tyrannical Busband, Ballad 
of a. 8,116. 

Ulinger, German bal. ' 2, 272. 

Vlrick und Aennchen, German 
bal. 2, 272. 

Undaiinted Londonderry. 7, 
247. 

Unfortunate Concubine, or, Ro- 
samond" s Overthrow. 7, 284. 

Up and war them a' Willie. 
7, 264, 156. 

Valentine and Ursine, tale of. 
Percy, 3, 330. 



Vendicafrice, Italian bal. 2, 

392 
Vilain qui conquist Paradia 

pir Plait, fabliau du. 8, 

152. 
Von eitel unmoglichen Dinge% 

German ballads. 1, 128. 
Vorioirth. German bal. 1, 

213. 

[die] Wahrsagenden Nachti- 
gallen, Danish bah 2, 342. 

Wallace and his Leman. 6, 
232. 

Waly, waly, bi;t love be bon- 
ny. 4, 132. 

Wandering Jew. 8, 76. 

Wandering Prince of Troy. 
8, 207. 

WL.ndering Young Gentlewo- 
man, see Catskin's Garland, 

Wanton Wife of Bath. 8, 152. 

Warenston and the Duke of 
York's, Daughter. 3, 113. 

Water o' Wearie's Well. 1, 
198; 2,271. 

We were Sisters, we were 
Seven. 1, 152. 

Weary Coble o' Cargill. 8, 
30; 2, 216. 

Wedding of Robin Hood and 
Little John. 5, 184. 

Weddynge of Syr Gawen and 
Dame Ragnell. 1, 29. 

Wee, wee :\Ian. 1, 126, 273; 
8, 140. 

West Country Daraosel's 
Complaint. 2, 384. 

West Country Wager. 1, 131. 



358 



INDEX. 



WJia will bake my bridal bread. 

3, 191. 
White Doe of Rylstone, Words- 
worth 's. 7, bi. 
Widow of Westmoreland. Kin- 
loch, Bal. Book, p. 1. 
Wieder(jefundene Konigsioch- 

ter, German bal. 3, 191. 
Wife Lapped in MoreVs Skin. 

8, 182. 
Wife of Auchtirmuchty. 8, 

116. 
Wife of Bath's Tale. 1, 29. 
Wife of Usher's WeU. 1, 213; 

2, 63. 
Wilkinnsnga. 5, 128. 
William and Marjorie. 2, 

149, 45. 
William Guiseraan. 3, 50. 
Willie and Annet 2, 79, 86. 
Willie and Lady Maisry. 2, 57. 
Willie and May Margaret. 2, 

171. 
Willie Mackintosh, or, The 

Burning of Auchindown. 

6, 159. 
Willie Wallace. 6, 231, 237. 
Willie's drowned in Gameiy. 

2, 181. 
Willie's Ladye. 1, 162. 
Willow, Wiflow, Willow. 4, 

234. 
Willy's drowned in Yarrow. 

8, 228. 
Wind hath blown my plaid 

away. 1, 277. 
Winning of Gales. 7, 123. 
Wolfdietrich. 2, 346. 
Woman Warrior. 7, 257. 
Woodo' Warslin. 2,220. 



Worm of Lambton, Worm of 
Linton. 1, 281; 8, 128. 

Wylie Wife of the hie Toivn 
hie. Struthers's British 
Minstrel, 1, xxv. 

Xailowiy tale of. 8, 54. 

Toung Airly. 6, 184. 
Young Akin. 1, 179. 
Young Allan (taken from Sir 

Patrick Spens). Buchan, 

2, 11. 
Young Bearwell. 4, 302. 
Young Beichan and Susie 

Pye. 4, 1, 253; 1, 282. 
Young Bekie. 4, 10. 
Young Benjie. 2, 298. 
Young Bondwell. 4, 2. 
Young Child Dyring, Danish 

bal. 4, 265. 
Yuung Cloudeslee. 5, 124. 
Young Hastings the Groom. 

1,189; 2,271. 
Young Hunting. 3, 295, 3. 
Young Johnstone. 2, 291. 
Young Laird of Ochiltrie. 4 

109. 
Young Prince James. 2, 78. 
Young Ratdijfe. 7, 165. 
Young Redin. 3, 13. 
Young Tamlane. 1, 114. 
Young Waters. 3, 88, 301; 

1,282; 7, 120. 
Youth of Rosengord, Swedish 

bal. 2, 347, 219. 

Zauberbecher, Sage vom. 1, 4. 
Zeyn Alasman and the King oj 
ike Genii, tale of. 1, 5. 



